Fear the Reaper
by LemonStar
Summary: ..Happy/OC.. A continuation of "Man of Mayhem". He absolutely terrified her and he did nothing to change her opinion of him.
1. Chapter 1

**This story will be either two or three parts. I have posted a picture of "my" Emily on my tumblr.**

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…

He was gone for two weeks before he appeared again.

He went to sit down on his usual stool and by the time he got there, she was already placing his usual Coke down. He looked at her and she wasn't sure why but she lingered for a moment longer than she would have. She normally got away from him as quickly as she could whenever he was there.

"Cheesecake?" She asked even though that was what he always got and it never changed.

He grunted and didn't say anything and she went to go get him a slice.

It was just the two of them in the diner that night and she did her best to keep her heart from beating so hard. It was okay. He had been coming here for months and he had yet to do anything. He just sat there and ate his cheesecake and always left her a generous tip. And beat up her boyfriend because he had slapped her. She had never brought that up to him and she knew he certainly wasn't going to talk about it. She still didn't know how he had even found Justin and why it had mattered to him so much that he had beat him so badly as if in a retaliation of sorts, Justin had nearly had to make a trip to the hospital.

She actually didn't know if it was Happy who had beat him so severely and yet, she didn't really have to ask. She just knew. Who else could it have been?

She set the plate down in front of him. "Anything else?" She asked.

He shook his head, already reaching for his fork, and she went back to her anatomy textbook open on the opposite counter. The only sounds were his fork clanking softly against the plate and the sound of the motor in the soda fountain kicking on. She would glance over every few minutes and when she saw his drink almost empty, she went and got him a refill, placing it down in front of him and taking his other glass away, putting it in the bin for dirty dishes.

When he was finished, he dropped his fork on the plate, alerting it to her, and she left her book to come back to him.

"Anything else?" She asked, taking the plate.

He shook his head, standing up. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a ten as he always did and handed it to her. She wasn't sure why she did but she hesitated for just a moment before taking it from him, giving him a slight nod of her head. He didn't say anything and without even another look, he turned and left.

And as always, when he was gone, she felt as if she could breathe a little easier.

…

He wasn't a very handsome man – at least in her opinion. She could imagine that there were girls who probably though she was nuts; the girls attracted to the biker types. She had never been one of them. She supposed she liked "pretty" boys, the sort who worked at a store who hired their employees simply based on their looks. They weren't the brightest bulbs. She and Justin didn't have anything in common but at least the mere sight of Justin didn't terrify her.

Happy was older than her, probably pushing forty if not already. He had a shaved head and his body was absolutely covered in tattoos. He even had a few on his scalp. There had been a time when she had thought of getting a tattoo – just something small where few people would ever see – but for wanting to be a nurse, the idea of having so much contact with a needle on her skin freaked her out a bit.

She was his complete opposite in every way. Short and pale and just twenty.

One night, her friend, Natalie, came to the diner and Happy just happened to be there. After he left, she nearly gushed for an hour about how hot he was and how she would give her right arm to ride on the back of his bike.

She hadn't said anything; hadn't agreed with a word said about him.

"Don't you think he's scary?" She asked.

"Totally," Natalie than said, letting out a dreamy sigh.

…

Her shift ended just after dawn and with her first class at ten, she was able to go home and sleep for a few hours. She ran on fumes most days but she was used to it.

Her car had been giving her trouble and she had left it at the nearby auto garage, leaving her to take the bus for a few days. After her shift, she stood at the bus stop at the street corner, tightening her coat around herself as she waited. She heard a roar of a motorcycle coming up the street and she felt her heart pause in her throat. He hadn't come into the diner during her shift that night and she knew he wasn't the only person to own a motorcycle in the world and yet, she knew it was him.

She quickly turned her head, looking up the street, praying the bus would suddenly arrive before the motorcycle could get there but it was so close now and then it started to slow down.

She sighed softly to herself and turned her head to see that it was indeed him, sitting there astride his motorcycle beside the curb, his dark eyes staring at her. His eyes were what scared her more than anything. She had never seen such cold, dark eyes before and even if he had never been cruel to her directly, they still made her think that he was an evil man.

"What are you doing?" He asked her with a frown.

"Clearly just standing here," she retorted, not sure why she had made herself sassy to him of all people.

He stared at her, clearly not amused. "Isn't safe," he said.

She shrugged, not responding.

"Get on," he then all but ordered to her.

She could feel her eyes widen as she looked at him. "No way."

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he said and he sounded as if he was losing patience with her; as if he had any towards her to begin with. He then looked at her as she looked at him, her arms crossed over herself, as if hugging and protecting herself from him. He sighed then and his hand twisted one of the handles, the bike revving. "It's not safe," he then said, his eyes penetrating hers.

She knew he was telling her something without actually telling her anything. There was a reason he had told her twice now that it wasn't safe. Not safe for who? She had lived here her whole life and had never felt overly unsafe at any time. He was staring at her and she stared back and she felt her throat grow dry. Even around him, he scared the crap out of her and yet, she knew that he wouldn't harm her. She didn't know how she knew that yet it was something she didn't question. He had been coming to the diner for months and after the initial first few times, even with her nerves around him never dying down, he knew he wouldn't hurt her.

"You don't have a helmet," she heard herself blurt out.

Without a word, he took the helmet from his head and handed it out to her. She frowned. That wasn't exactly what she meant but she found herself reaching for it. It was as if she no longer had any control over her body and she didn't understand what she was doing. She always tried her hardest to keep her distance from him and now, she was about to climb onto his motorcycle and tell him where she lived?

Again, she looked up to the street, hoping the bus would arrive and rescue her. Instead, there was a roar of a motorcycle in the distance and he whipped his head around at the sound, eyes studying the direction where the sound had come from through slightly narrowed eyes. He then looked at her.

"Get on," he growled.

She shivered but she didn't protest further. Something told her that she should be more frightened of the nearing motorcycle than of him right now.

She had never been on a motorcycle and she wasn't sure what to do but she straddled the seat behind him as she fastened the helmet tightly on her head, trying not to look down at the pavement and think of how nothing was there to protect her if they crashed.

He revved the bike again and she knew what he was waiting for her to do. Hesitantly, she sat a bit closer behind him and slid her arms around his waist. He was a hard body, all muscle, and he smelled like cigarette smoke. The instant he felt her holding onto him, he took off, shooting like a bullet flying from a gun, and she instantly snapped her eyes shut, her arms reflexively tightening around his waist.

She felt the wind against her face and whistling in her ears and with her eyes closed, she felt like she was flying. She only realized after they had been riding for a few minutes that she hadn't told him where she lived and he had no idea where to take her. When he stopped them at a red light, she shifted behind him.

"Dover Street!" She shouted into his ear and he nodded, taking off again when the light turned green and her arms tightened once more.

When the bike stopped for a second time, she opened her eyes and saw they were at the corner of Dover Street. She didn't give him her address. She didn't want him to know specifically where she lived. She climbed off the bike, her legs unsteady for a moment, and she stood there, allowing herself to get right with the world again. She took off the helmet and handed it back to him.

She looked at him and he looked at her but she didn't wait for an explanation. He wasn't going to give one. She knew that. Without a word, she turned and began walking up the sidewalk and she didn't look back when she heard the motorcycle rev to life again before he shot down the street.

…

Three months later, he came in and she was already setting his Coke and cheesecake down at his stool when he entered, she having heard his motorcycle approaching.

He glanced at her as he sat down but then he picked up his fork and began eating without a word. When she brought him his second Coke, she noticed that the patch that had said "Nomad" had been replaced with one that said "Charming". She said nothing about it. It wasn't any of her business and she didn't really care.

But as he was leaving, coming to hand her his money for the bill, she looked up from her Physical Examination and Health Assessment textbook.

"So, you're in Charming now?" She asked and he looked at her as if he wondered how the hell she knew that. She pointed to his patch. "You're not a Nomad anymore? Whatever the hell that means."

He grunted what she assumed was a reply.

"Guess that means you won't be coming around here that much anymore," she said.

He stared at her for a moment and she stood there, wondering why she had just said that to him. He didn't say anything and the more he stared, the more she wanted to take a few steps back from him. Her stomach knotted a little and she wondered if it was too late to apologize – for what, she didn't know but she could imagine she wasn't the first one to apologize to him for no reason.

But then, he broke out into a smirk but his relaxed stance only made her more nervous. He shook his head slightly at her and dropped his ten dollar bill onto the open pages of her book.

"You'd like that," he stated.

"Yes," she said, seeing no point in lying to him, not caring that he might do something to her but she was never the sort of person to lie.

"Tough luck for you then," he said, his dark eyes penetrating into her, the smirk staying in place. "I like the cheesecake here."

"No one likes the cheesecake," she shook her head.

"Maybe I like looking at your sweet ass then every time you run away from me," he said. "Emily," he then said her name and her back stiffened.

He had never said her name before and it sounded so rough coming past his lips. She crossed her arms over her chest and stood ramrod, her heart beating wildly in her chest as they stared at one another.

"How's that boyfriend of yours?" He then asked.

Somehow, her back stiffened even more.

He just kept smirking and even when he left, leaving her alone, she still felt like she couldn't breathe.

…

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**Thank you for reading and please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I have played with the timeline a little. **

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…

**Part Two.**

He came into the diner one night, striding with a purpose, his eyes finding her immediately as she came back from throwing the trash out in the lot in back. She stopped though when she saw him. He stood there, his eyes practically black beneath the fluorescent lighting and her stomach clenched nervously as it always did at the sight of him.

Instead of going to his stool, he came to stand in front of her, the counter between them. She looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest, and she wasn't sure how but she knew something had happened. She didn't dwell on how she had gotten to be able to read him over the time he had started coming here. That wasn't a skill she necessarily wanted to have or develop.

"Has anyone come in here?" He was nearly growling, his frown deep and heavy. It made him even more frightening – if that was possible – and a part of her wanted to take a step back away from him before she reminded herself, again, that he had never hurt her and there were others in the diner that night; the usual truckers. He looked at her. "Someone like me?" He further added.

She paused a moment, actually thinking it over. "No," she shook her head.

He sighed and he seemed both relieved and pissed off about that at the same time.

He glanced over his shoulder out the window before back at her. "You'll keep an eye out and let me know?"

She swallowed and nodded. "Am I…" she didn't want to finish the question; couldn't.

But he stared at her and he seemed to know. "You'll be fine," he grunted.

She waited for herself to doubt that yet, the need to scoff in disbelief never came. She looked at him and his black eyes and she actually believed him when he said that. Not only could she read him but she had now started to trust his words? She couldn't help but frown at herself, not at all liking these new developments.

She did her best to clear her throat. "Do you want your usual?" She asked.

He shook his head. "If anyone comes in and his cut says Mayans, let me know."

She felt herself nodding again. "And what are you going to do to him once I tell you about him?" She heard herself asking though it was question, she realized, she didn't want an answer to. Her imagination was providing her with bad enough ideas.

And he didn't say anything in response to the question. He just looked at her for a moment, really looked at her, his eyes still black and his frown still weighing down the rest of his face, and she felt her stomach knot itself so painfully, she felt close to throwing up. She couldn't imagine living a life like he did; where things like this were normal. Looking for men, having men look for him, always looking over his shoulder. He obviously chose this kind of life and it just further explained to her what kind of person he was. And he was a person she wanted to stay away from.

He didn't answer her question. He just stepped back from the counter, giving her one last long look before he turned and left the diner. She watched him through the window as he climbed onto his bike and a second later, he roared away.

"That guy bothering you, Em?" Nate asked as he came up to pay his bill.

She looked at him for a moment but then slowly shook her head. "No, he isn't bothering me," she said and it was the truth.

He scared the hell out of her but he had never actually bothered her.

…

* * *

It was a terrible day. She got into another fight with Justin and this time, he had gripped her wrist so hard, hours later, she could see the bruises of his fingers against her skin.

She wondered if he was an idiot. If Happy found out… she trailed that thought off. If Happy found out, what? Did she want him to beat her boyfriend to a pulp again? What did that say about her? And why didn't she just break up with the loser? She was studying as hard as she could to become a nurse and he was still living with his parents, making no move to get his own place anytime soon, and he worked at a gas station. Not that there was anything with working at a gas station but he seemed to be on the fast track to nowhere.

She sighed softly and decided to take her ten minute break a little early, making sure to tell Norman, the cook, that she would be out back since there were no customers at the moment.

She stepped out onto the back steps and took a deep breath of the night air. She sat down on the top step, the screen door slapping shut behind her, and she looked out into the darkness past the light that lit up the back and the dumpsters, her fingers wrapped loosely around her wrist.

It wasn't Justin who was an idiot – though he wasn't winning any scholarly awards anytime soon. She was the idiot. Why the hell was she still dating him? She wasn't in love with him. She wasn't deluded enough to think that. She was just too busy right now to be in love – and even if she wasn't, there was no way in hell she would be in love with Justin. She needed to end things because she was not the sort of girl to allow her boyfriend to push her and slap her around when he got pissed about things in his own life.

She suddenly thought of Happy. Did he have a girlfriend? Did he beat up on her? He looked – on the outside – like he probably would and yet, she couldn't really picture it. He looked like he beat on everyone else. Then again, she was probably wrong. She had proven time and time again that she knew nothing about men.

She heard a roar of a motorcycle and she sighed softly, not ready yet to have her break be over, but she couldn't keep a customer, even him, waiting.

She stood up and went back inside, making sure the bracelets she wore around her wrist that evening were hiding the bruise well enough.

Happy was already sitting on his stool and she got him his glass of Coke before going to him. He didn't say anything to her and she didn't say anything to him. She saw his eyes land almost immediately on the bracelets at her wrist and she saw his jaw clench. He knew she didn't normally wear bracelets. He seemed to always know so much about her and so much of the time, she wished he had never come into that diner that one night over a year ago.

She served him his cheesecake with her other hand, keeping her other wrist hanging down at her side so he couldn't grab it. He didn't say a word or ask about it and when he was ready to go, he left her a ten as usual.

"Can't believe you're still with him," he said in his gruff voice as he was about to leave, staring at her with his still tightly clenched jaw.

She shrugged, trying to remain blank, as if she hadn't said the exactly same thing to herself just minutes earlier. "It's really none of your business."

"My business last time," he reminded her – as if she needed reminding.

"And I never asked you to do that," it was her turn to remind him.

"Yeah, but you're glad I did, aren't you?" He smirked then as if he knew some kind of joke she didn't get. She glared at him and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You don't know the first thing about me," she informed him.

He only grinned though and it was so cold and she had never seen someone smiling who still looked so empty. "You tell yourself that," he said as his parting words before he left and she felt like shivering as if too cold all of a sudden.

…

* * *

He hadn't come into the diner that night but as she approached the bus stop – her car was being crappy to her again – after her shift, she saw him sitting on his bike, waiting idly. Her steps didn't even falter as she continued walking but she went to him instead of the bus stop.

They didn't exchange a word. He handed her the helmet and she put it on her head, fastening it tight before climbing on behind him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist and she kept her eyes squeezed shut as he shot down the street. Riding on the back of his motorcycle was no less terrifying than it was the first time.

When he began slowing down, she opened her eyes and saw that they had already arrived at Dover Street. Much faster than taking the bus.

Still without saying a word, she climbed off the bike, taking a moment to steady her legs before unclasping the helmet and handing it to him. He turned sideways on his seat, still remaining sitting, his legs stretched out in front of him.

"I'm going away," he said.

"Where?" She couldn't help but be curious.

He just shook his head.

"How long will you be gone?" She then asked and wondered why that mattered to her.

He shrugged. "About fourteen months."

It took her less than a second to understand.

_Oh_. She felt a little surprised and she wasn't entirely sure why. What did a person say to another in this kind of situation? Good luck in prison? That seemed hardly appropriate though he would probably get a kick out of it.

"I'll write you," she blurted out for no reason and he looked at her as if she was crazy. But seeing his reaction only encouraged her. "I will. Isn't it nice to get letters while you're in there?"

He shrugged as if he could care less either way.

He looked at her for a moment before he pushed himself to his feet. He towered over her and she tilted her chin up so she could look at him. He was so tall and large and definitely in her personal space. Before she could take a step back however, his hand snaked around to the back of her head and he smashed his lips against hers.

It was a hard kiss – too hard. And it made her freeze completely. Her hands went to his chest because she was definitely going to push him away but he was a tree; a brick wall. He couldn't be shoved unless he wanted to be shoved.

The kiss lasted only for seconds and he was the one to end it. He stared at her for a moment and then got onto his bike. He fastened his helmet and she stood there, staring at him, and she could swear she saw him smirking. Without another word or a backwards glance, he took off, and she stood there, watching him until he was nothing more than a dot in the distance and then he was completely gone.

She refused to think about the way her lips were still trembling.

…

* * *

She had never been to Charming before but it was a small enough town for her to find what she was looking for. She pulled in past the gate and headed towards the back of the lot where she saw the Teller-Morrow Garage. All of the dock doors were open with a car being worked on in each one. She pulled her car into an empty space and got out. Except for the sounds of tools and metal clanging together, it was quiet and there didn't seem to be anyone else around.

She stood there for a moment, not sure what to do, but then she saw a woman step out – an older woman with highlights and probably wearing too much leather for someone her age.

She had stepped out to light a cigarette but she stopped when she saw her standing there like a lump on a post. "Can I help you?" She asked.

That spurned her into action and she took steps forward. "I hope so…" she said, feeling incredibly shy around this woman for some reason. "I, um, do you know Happy?" She then asked.

The woman raised one of her arched eyebrows. "And you are?"

She swallowed. "I'm Emily. I told Happy… I would like to write him but I don't know the address of… of where he is."

The woman stared at her for a moment and then a slow smile spread across her lips. She took another moment and looked her up and down, making her feel incredibly self-conscious in her black and white Converse sneakers and her floral pattern dress with the cardigan sweater.

The woman suddenly stuck out her hand. "I'm Gemma," she introduced.

She took her hand and shook it, her stomach still tight and her entire body on edge. She knew she could not be more out of her element right now.

"Nice to meet you, Gemma," she smiled politely.

Gemma smiled a little wider but it was like Happy's smile. It wasn't very friendly. It was like a snake. Dangerous. Approach with caution.

"Nice to finally meet you, too, Emily."

…

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**Thank you very much for reading and please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I can't believe the response I am receiving for this story. Thank you so much. **

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…

**Part Three.**

At first, she had no idea what to write. She knew he wouldn't be the only one reading them. They had to go through guards reading them first to make sure she didn't say anything or send him anything that might be misinterpreted. It was all very nerve-wracking and she sat on her couch, a pad of paper against her thighs as she stared at it, tapping her pen against it.

She wondered why she had said she would write him. It had been said at the spur of the moment, a promise made hastily when she had nothing else to say but to her, a promise was a promise and she didn't want to go back on it. He probably didn't care whether she wrote him or not but she couldn't imagine what it would be like, locked in a small cell for fourteen months with nothing much to do.

She tried not to wonder why she cared so much about his boredom and his sanity.

She knew he wasn't a good man. Few people who went to prison were and she had watched an episode of _Gangland_ on television and the program was talking about the _Hell's Angels_ – of how cold and cruel they were, how they dealt drugs and guns and had dozens of murders to their name. And how they treated their women like they were nothing more than a possession, loving their bike and gang more, she wasn't sure why any woman would ever want to be involved with a biker gang.

And yet, here she was, attempting to write a letter to him like he was something to her; like she was anything to him; like she _wanted_ to be anything to him.

She sighed and leaned her head against the pillow behind her, closing her eyes. She tried not to think about why he would be in prison. Her mind was racing with all sorts of possibilities even after she reminded herself that she didn't have the first clue as to who he was. And why would she? They never talked about him. They hardly ever talked. All she did know about him was that he was absolutely terrifying but people weren't put in prison for their ability to intimidate the hell out of others.

She had never known anyone who had gone to prison. She didn't even know anyone who had ever even been arrested. Her dad was the sort who wore glasses and sweater vests and worked in an insurance office every day and her mom was the sort who was part of the Rosary Society at their church, participating in bake sales and quilting bees and bingo Tuesday nights. Her older brother's idea of rebelling was taking up smoking. Her family was as clean in every sense of the word as a person could be in this world.

She almost giggled at the thought of introducing them to someone like Happy. Older and covered in tattoos and riding a motorcycle, her dad might very well actually faint at the sight. And her mom would probably run off to talk to the priest about her daughter being straight on the path to hell.

Not that she would _ever_ bring Happy home to meet her family. He wasn't anyone they ever had to meet. He was just a guy who came to the diner to eat way too much cheesecake and get his amusement by making her as uncomfortable as possible while beating up her boyfriend if he put his hands on her.

She wrote two words on top of the paper: _Dear Happy_…

And then she was stuck again.

…

* * *

She began treating the letters to him like a diary. She told him everything about her days – every minute detail and she could only imagine him sitting in his cell, reading her letters and falling asleep because her life was just that boring. She talked about school and her classes and how work went each night.

She told him she had gotten a cat and named it Kyle – which she thought was so funny because who would expect a pet to have such a human name? _I know you're probably a dog person_, she wrote to him. _One of those mean junkyard dogs that start barking if they're even looked at_. _But Kyle is fat and sleeps all day in front of the window, liking to feel the sun on him and Kyle has the life I want_. _It's nice coming home and knowing he's there_.

She told him about her twenty-first birthday. _Way too many vodka shots. I think if I ever even smell vodka again, I'll vomit all over myself. _

She told him when she broke up with Justin. She knew he would definitely be interested in that. _He slapped me again. I don't even know why. We were fighting – again – and all I asked him was if he was going to be living with his parents forever. He slapped me and I ended it right then and there. I'm not the girl you can slap around._

That had been such a relief – ending things with him. When he had slapped her, she had stared at him, in shock that it had happened. Again. But unlike the other times when she had been able to see a hint of remorse in his eyes – and maybe that was why she kept staying with him – this time, she looked at him and saw absolutely nothing but darkness. They almost reminded her of Happy's dark eyes, she had thought immediately.

She told him when she cut her hair in a way of coping with the particularly already brutal California summer even though it was only May. _Nothing too drastic. Just to my shoulders. I think I cut it too short though because I can't even really put it into braids anymore and that's driving me crazy. My friend, Natalie, said though that there's nothing wrong with that. I'm too old to wear my hair in braided pigtails anyway, she said. _

She told him about the bakery that had opened up near campus. _If it was possible to eat nothing but cream cheese frosting and still live a healthy life, I would be so happy_.

But then something happened and she knew, without a doubt, Happy was reading every letter she sent him.

One night, during her shift, she was reading and studying for one of her upcoming finals when she heard the roar of a motorcycle. She lifted her head instantly and for a second, she forgot he was gone and thought it was him. Her stomach twisted as always and yet, she felt a somewhat building anticipation in seeing him again and she almost went to the machine to get him his glass of Coke.

But through the window, she saw the motorcycle and man riding it and she remembered that Happy was still in prison. Just another two more months to go. Not that she was counting. She told herself she just missed his ridiculously nice tips.

The man entered – Mexican with slicked back black hair and a leather cut like the one Happy wore only this one had _Mayans_ on the back. She immediately remembered the time Happy came into the diner, asking if she had seen anyone with that name. She stared at him and he stared at her and she felt that familiar fear that she had felt when Happy first started showing up.

"You Happy Lowman's old lady?" He broke the silence between them by asking.

Her brow furrowed at the question and she frowned at that. "No," she said and she wondered why anyone would even think that about her. She remembered that episode of _Gangland_ and what an old lady was and she definitely wasn't that.

The man didn't say anything else. He just stood there and stared at her for a long time and she hated that Norman always fell asleep in the kitchen when it was just the two of them in the diner late at night like this.

But then he left and the instant she could no longer hear the motorcycle after he drove off, she took out the letter she had been working on and without even finishing the paragraph she had been writing, she started a new one and told him everything that had just happened.

…

* * *

Two nights later, she heard the roar of a motorcycle again and her hand grabbed the portable phone from off the wall, ready to dial 911 immediately if it was that Mayan again. But she knew it wasn't the same one when she got a look at this rider.

A large, overweight young man with glasses and curly hair entered. He was wearing a cut as well but it had _Prospect _both on a patch on the front and on the back.

"Hi," he smiled warmly at her.

She was momentarily stunned. She certainly hadn't been greeted by a biker in that way yet. "Hi," she said, remembering herself.

"I'm Phil. Happy got word to me. Told me I should come and sit with you for a while," he said.

"Oh. You don't have to do that…" she began shaking her head.

"Happy said you would say that and that I should just ignore you," Phil smiled at that and settled himself down on a stool at the counter. "He also said the cheesecake here is good. Can I get a slice?"

She was momentarily frozen to her spot, just staring at him, trying to imagine Happy actually giving a damn about her and telling someone to come keep an eye out on her; to keep her safe. She felt her stomach lurch. Because she even just knew Happy, she now had to be kept safe from others. She didn't like that at all.

But Phil kept smiling at her and she gave him a small smile before going to get him the slice of cheesecake he had asked for.

She placed it down in front of him. "Thank you," she then said softly before he could.

…

* * *

She had a dream about him and she had no idea why.

He was out of prison and he had come back to the diner to see her. He had stared at her and she had stared at him and suddenly, like it happened in dreams, they were now in the alley behind the diner and he was pressing her against the wall beside the dumpster. She wasn't afraid though. Her body was trembling but only with anticipation. He was kissing her – hard like that one and only time he had kissed her – but she was moaning softly and kissing him back just as hard.

He was strong and he was easily able to lift her in his arms, bracing her back against the wall as her legs wrapped around his waist. Their mouths never separated and he tasted like smoke and cheesecake and she was the one to suck his tongue into her mouth. He responded by pushing her waitressing uniform up around her waist.

In the dream, she didn't stop him. She only moaned his name and told him she wanted him. And then, he was thrusting inside of her, gripping her thighs and he was so big and thick, it stung and tears burned her eyes but he didn't care, only moving faster, and she realized that in her dream, she didn't care either. The pain felt so good, burning her, making her ache, and her arms clung around his shoulders as she only begged him for more.

She woke up with a start, flying up in a sitting position. She felt sweat pooling on the small of her back and there was an ache between her thighs and her heart was racing in her chest.

Kyle was sitting at the foot of the bed, staring at her, and she wondered how loud she had been moaning.

…

* * *

During the summer, she was able to work more shifts during the breakfast hour and one morning in July, she recognized Gemma from the Teller-Morrow Garage who had given her the address to the prison entering the diner, holding the hand of a small boy with blonde hair. She sat down in a booth in her section and she went to her, first stopping at the counter for a placemat and a small cup filled with a few crayons that was kept there for their much younger customers.

"Good morning," she greeted as she set the items down in front of the boy. Gemma smiled at him and then up at her. "Is he yours?" She asked.

"Well, you are very sweet for thinking he could be," Gemma said. "He's my grandson. My son's in with Happy right now," she then further added. "You writing your letters to him?" She asked.

She nodded. "Every week," she said.

Gemma just kept smiling and nodded. "Jax told me."

And all she could do was stare at the older woman. She assumed Jax was her son and she could also only assume that that meant that he knew about the letters because he had seen Happy either receiving them or reading them.

Gemma smiled and looked at her almost as if she was proud of her. "It's good you're doing that."

She nodded, not sure what to say.

"The boys are getting out next month and we're having a party to welcome them home. The garage you came to? Their clubhouse is there, too. You should come," Gemma said.

Her refusal was immediate. "I don't think so."

There was no way she would ever be comfortable walking into a biker gang clubhouse. She couldn't even imagine what a party there would be like.

Gemma didn't look surprised. "You should think about it. I'm sure Happy would like to see you, Emily."

She shook her head. "I doubt that," she said. "If he wants to see me, he knows where to find me." She took out her ordering pad and her pen. "What can I get you?"

Gemma just kept staring at her. "It's on the 11th. Come any time after nine," she then said as if she hadn't heard anything else.

Emily looked at her and wondered if this woman very well could be more frightening than Happy.

…

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**Thank you very much for reading and please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter pretty much flew out of me. I've been thinking a lot about Happy and Emily's story and obviously, this is going to be a bit longer than originally planned. **

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…

**Chapter Four.**

She had asked if she could bring a friend.

"As long as it's not a male friend," Gemma had answered and she almost asked why not but she didn't dare.

Natalie had only been too excited to go. She had squealed when Emily had told her about the party for Happy, the man she had drooled over that night at the diner, and the others getting out of prison. "I can't believe you know convicts, Emily!" Natalie had laughed with glee, clapping her hands. She knew there was no way she would go by herself and Natalie seemed like she wanted to experience this whole biker world. Emily thought her friend was absolutely insane for even being interested in it.

"That's what you're wearing?" Natalie frowned.

She looked down at her clothes. "This is what I always wear," she shrugged. She wasn't going to wear leather and too-tight clothes just because of where they were going. This was what she wore and why would she care of wearing something different for a night just because of where they were going?

She wore her black and white Converse sneakers and a yellow dress that skimmed her mid-thighs and a grey light-weight hoodie. Natalie, on the other hand, wore black leather pants that she had bought just for the occasion and a red tank top that showed off too much cleavage and too much stomach. The spikes of her heels could probably take out someone's eye if she had to use them as a weapon.

Compared to Natalie and all of the other women there, she knew she was going to stick out like a sore thumb but she didn't really care. She had no plans on staying long. She still had no idea why she was even going there in the first place. She hadn't seen Happy for fourteen months but she was just the waitress to him. Everyone else there were actually people he knew and he would want to spend all of his time with them. She foresaw herself spending much of this evening by herself, always keeping herself close to the exit.

"Ready?" She asked, grabbing her car keys.

Natalie took one more look at her dress and sighed to herself. "If you're really going to go like that."

The comment was ignored as she scratched Kyle beneath his chin, the cat purring contently with the affection, and she bid him a good night and a promise that she wouldn't be gone long.

…

* * *

They arrived a little after ten and she could hear the music thumping from down the street where she had parked the car against the curb. Natalie was walking as quickly as she could without tripping in her heels but she walked at her normal pace behind her, seeing no reason as to why she should hurry. She would go, find Happy, give him her hello and then spend the rest of the night, waiting for Natalie.

In the lot, it was filled with cars and motorcycles and only a couple of people hanging around outside. As she approached, she saw Phil with another man with his hair buzzed into a strip down the middle of his head, an ornate tattoo on either side.

"Hi, Emily," Phil grinned the second he saw her. "This is Juice."

"Hi, Phil," she smiled easily at him and she wondered why this over-sized teddy bear was joining a biker gang. He didn't seem to fit but it really wasn't any of her business in the slightest. "This is my friend, Natalie," she then made introductions.

Juice looked to Natalie, flashing her a smile, and then looked back to her, recognition on his face. "Happy's inside," he said. "I can take you to him."

Did everyone know about her? But there wasn't even anything to know.

She felt herself shaking her head. "I think I'm just going to stay out there. Cigarette smoke makes me kind of nauseous," she then admitted and she could practically hear Natalie rolling her eyes from beside her. She heard the music and the loud voices of the crowd inside and now that she was there, she wished she hadn't come at all. This was the last place in the world she wanted to be.

Juice smiled a little. "I'll tell him you're here." He looked to Natalie. "You want to go inside?" He asked, pushing himself from the picnic table he was sitting on.

"God, yes," Natalie nodded eagerly and Juice laughed, taking her hand as if they had known one another longer than just a minute.

Natalie flashed her a smile and she gave her a small one in return before she disappeared inside and Phil gave her a smile, too, before following after them.

She breathed softly with relief now that she was alone. She felt a little bad for leaving Natalie on her own but Natalie had always been able to handle herself and if either of them actually belonged there, it was definitely Natalie.

She was the only one outside and she looked around. She saw a playground set built behind a small chain link fence and she looked over her shoulder to make sure she was still alone before she felt her feet carrying her there. She entered the area and lowered herself down onto one of the swings. She kept her feet planted on the ground and began pushing herself back and forth, the air cool against her bare legs. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad if she could just spend the rest of her time out here.

She watched the door and when she saw him step out, his eyes looking and finding her after a moment, she felt her stomach flip as she slowly got to her feet. He was carrying two beer bottles in between the fingers of one hand as he approached and she remained standing where she was, not meeting him halfway.

Once he stood in front of her, she saw he looked the same – perhaps with a bit more muscle but she knew that made sense. He had just spent fourteen months in prison. What else was there to do besides work out?

He didn't say anything as he looked at her and she felt the familiar nervousness. It hadn't ebbed away in all of the months she hadn't seen him and writing the letters had been so easy because she hadn't actually been saying those things to him out loud, having to see his reactions when she said all of it. And she didn't even want to think about the dream she had of him. It had only happened once and there was no reason to dwell on it. Why dwell on something that meant absolutely nothing?

He then held out one of the bottles of beer. "Not vodka," he said, his voice still as rough as ever.

She heard herself laugh softly, taking the bottle, her fingers wrapping around the cold neck. "That was such a bad night," she looked up to him.

"Twenty one shots of cherry vodka would be a bad night for anyone," he shrugged and then took a guzzle from his own beer as he sat down in the second swing.

She hesitated for a moment before she lowered herself down back onto her swing. She took a small sip of the beer and looked down to her bare knees. Neither talked as they drank their beers and sat beside one another. She would glance at him occasionally but he was always looking straight ahead. She wondered why he was sitting out here when the music was pounding away from inside. Wouldn't he much rather be in there with his friends?

She pursed her lips together, wetting them. "Thank you for sending Phil after…" she trailed off, not sure what to call it that had happened.

He nodded. "Anyone been back since?" He asked, still not looking at her.

"No," she shook her head.

"Everyone knows I'm out now. Probably won't happen again," he said.

She nodded because she had absolutely no idea what else to do. "I'm not your old lady," she then informed him softly but making sure her voice was firm.

He smirked a little and took another guzzle of beer. "You're definitely not," he said.

"Thank God," she sighed softly.

…

* * *

She wasn't sure how long he sat out there with her on the swings but they didn't speak again and when they were both finished with their bottles of beer, he stood up, leaving both bottles on the ground for someone else to clean up. She felt her head feeling light just after one beer and she stood up, too.

"Happy," she said his name, not sure if he was going to go back inside for the rest of the night or if he was going to be coming back or if he was even leaving at all.

She looked up at him and he looked down at her and the spotlight shining over the playground set poured over them. She didn't know what she was doing but she blamed the beer completely. She knew by now how much of a lightweight she was.

She stood up on the tips of her toes and she kissed his rough cheek lightly. "Welcome home, Happy," she said softly, her eyes never leaving his as she settled herself back down on her feet.

Happy stared at her, his eyes black and unreadable. She hoped he didn't ask her why the hell she had just done that because she would have absolutely no explanation. It was definitely all the beer's fault.

"Like your hair long," he then told her.

She nodded slightly. "Me, too."

…

* * *

"You're drunk," he grunted to her.

She nodded, not disagreeing. She had had two more beers and her head was definitely spinning. And they both knew that she being drunk was the only reason this was happening. He sat on one of the swings and she stood in front of him, between his knees, her arms looped around his neck.

They kissed one another over and over and he kissed her so hard each time, brutal in a way, but her head was spinning and she couldn't feel anything other than his lips against hers and his hands rubbing her ass. She nipped at his bottom lip with her teeth lightly and he responded by pulling her closer even though she was already standing as close to him as she could.

She felt his hands leave her and then she sensed them dropping down to his lap, fingers beginning to work the zipper of his jeans and she suddenly felt very sober.

She pulled her lips back. "No," was all she said with a shake of her head. She pushed herself back a step. He was staring at her and then he smirked, the sight making her feel cold all over. She crossed her arms over her chest and she took another small step back as he stood up from the swing.

"But not that drunk, huh?" He said.

…

* * *

Natalie was so drunk, she was passed out and Juice had to carry her to her car parked down the street. As they walked away from the clubhouse, she leading and Juice following, she saw Happy sitting sideways on his bike, a woman in tight jeans and a piece of fabric that was supposed to be taken for a shirt standing between his legs as she had been doing at the swing just a little while ago and she had her tongue halfway down his throat from the look of things.

She quickly looked away before he saw her looking over to him. She saw Juice look at her from the corner of her eye but she ignored everything and kept on walking. She didn't want someone to confuse her as someone who cared; or even worse – as someone who was actually jealous.

Happy had been locked up for fourteen months and it wasn't as if he liked her. She was absolutely nothing to him just as he was nothing to her. She had written him letters and he made sure some other biker from some other gang didn't hurt her when he was gone. That was all. He could go get syphilis or some other STD from any of the other women at this party. There was no way she would ever have sex with Happy Lowman – no matter what she dreamed about – and it made perfect sense to her that he had gone off to find another woman who was more than willing.

After they got to her car and Juice laid Natalie out in the backseat, she closed the door and found Juice standing there, looking at her, almost looking embarrassed.

"Most of the guys, we can kind of be dicks when it comes to women," Juice admitted.

"Juice," she quickly jumped in and shook her head. "It doesn't matter to me. Really. Happy and me are absolutely nothing. I hardly even know him."

She really didn't want anyone to think she was hurt when she wasn't in the least. The woman Happy was making out with now, that was a woman much more on his level. She could tell.

But Juice was frowning at her and just looking confused.

…

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**Thank you very much for reading and please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I started writing this story because I had a hard time finding a Happy story where he was written like he was on the show. Happy, more or less, is a sociopath and Emily is the "normal" girl who has absolutely nothing to do with his world. I love Happy's character on the show but to be honest, if I met him in real life, I'd be terrified of him as I think most people would be. **

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…

**Chapter Five.**

Someone had broken into her house.

She came home after her night class and glass crunched beneath her foot when she unlocked the front door and took a step inside. She quickly looked down and then saw her front window smashed. She quickly looked around but her house was dark and she wasn't about to take another step inside to investigate. She hurried back out to her driveway and pulled her cell phone out, her fingers trembling as she called the police to report a break-in. Her fingers then naturally went to call her parents but she remembered at the last second that they had taken their usual fall vacation to New England to see the changing foliage. And her brother lived in Los Angeles so he was kind of useless to her at the moment.

When the police arrived, one officer entered while the other stayed behind with her to begin taking her statement. She wondered if she should call her landlord from whom she rented the house. The other officer called out that it was clear and she was escorted inside. The lights had been turned on in every room and they walked with her as she took careful inventory of her things.

Her television and some of her jewelry were missing And oddly enough, her Keurig coffee maker from the counter in the kitchen. Luckily, she had had her laptop with her for class. The police wrote it all in their report and they suggested to her she not spend the night there until her landlord could get the window fixed for her.

She packed a bag and grabbed Kyle but as she sat in her car, she realized she wasn't entirely too sure where to go. She had friends, she had Natalie, but she wasn't sure why she didn't seem to be rushing to one of them for help.

Honestly, the only person she could think of right now was him.

…

* * *

It was almost eleven o'clock when she pulled into the lot in front of the garage and beside the clubhouse. She knew the other guys didn't live there but she had absolutely no idea where he lived. Maybe there was still someone around who could help her. If not, she would just go to a motel. She should have done that anyway.

She got out of the car, her bag slung onto her shoulder and Kyle in her arms, as she approached first the garage, a light still on in the office. She didn't enter but she knocked on the open door, seeing a man sitting behind the desk, looking over some paperwork. When he lifted his head, she saw he had grey in his hair and deep scars on either side of his mouth.

"Hi," she greeted lamely. "I'm, um…"

"Lookin' for Happy?" He spoke in a thick accent as he stood up and since she hadn't been expecting it, it took her ears a moment to adjust.

She didn't stop to dwell on how everyone here associated her with him.

"If he's here… if not, don't worry about it. It's not important," she shook her head and took a step back as he stepped out from the office to join her.

He reached out and rubbed Kyle behind one of his grey pointed ears. Kyle purred, enjoying it. He then looked at her. "Happy's in the clubhouse. I'll take you to 'im," he said and then with one more rub to Kyle's head, he began walking across the lot and she hesitated for a moment before she followed behind.

Her stomach felt as if it was in her throat as she followed the man across the lot and through the door. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting but it was a good-size room – like someone's rec room – with a bar and couches and a pool table. Of course there was a stripper pole. Two double doors on the far side of the room were open, showing a long table inside surrounded by chairs like a conference room. Framed photos of dozens of mug shots hung on one of the walls and she didn't have to find his to know that his was hanging there.

There was a short, rotund man with grey frizzy hair and a matching beard standing behind the bar, a plate of cookies in front of him, and Happy was sitting at one of the stools, laughing – actually laughing – about something. As soon as they heard someone enter, both men turned and as soon as he saw her, he got to his feet, his laughter cutting off immediately and he was frowning now.

She stopped, still near the door, and held Kyle a little tighter.

He stalked to her. "What are you doing here?" His eyes stared down at her.

She swallowed. "I couldn't think of anywhere else to go. My house was broken into tonight," she said.

His frown deepened. "Were you home?"

"No, I was at class," she said and could hear her voice shaking slightly as she thought about it again. What would have happened if she had been home? "The police suggested I stay somewhere else until my landlord can fix the window."

"You called the police?"

She stared at him. "Of course I called the police! Someone broke into my house!" She glanced past his arm and saw the other two men were watching, not even hiding the fact they were listening in. She then looked back to him, tilting her chin up. "I'm sorry I came here. I don't know why I did. I'm just… I'm just really shaken up," she admitted in a much quieter voice.

"No shit," he was back to frowning at her. "Come on."

He grabbed her bag from her shoulder and slung the strap onto his own. He turned and walked further into the room and she followed behind him. She knew Kyle couldn't do absolutely anything to protect her from any of them if they did anything to her but she felt a little better holding the cat in her arms.

"Here, darlin'," the man with the grey hair and beard said. "Sounds like you need one." And she thought he was going to offer her a shot of something but instead, he held up the plate of cookies. "Chocolate chip. Just pulled them from the oven."

There was something about the man that made her smile faintly. "Thank you," she said and reached out, taking one of the warm cookies.

She followed Happy down a hallway that led further into the clubhouse and he opened a door to the left. Inside, there was a double bed, surprisingly neatly made, a dresser, a desk, an armchair, and an open door at the other side of the room, open to show a bathroom. There was already one bag sitting on the floor at the dresser.

She lingered in the doorway as he crossed the room and dropped her bag onto the chair. He then turned to look at her. She swallowed and then stepped into the room, feeling as if she was a lamb, entering the lion's den.

"Is this your room?" She asked. He nodded, still looking at her. "It's so clean," she then couldn't help but blurt out.

"I like things neat," was all he said.

He didn't say anything else and she didn't say anything either. She slowly stepped into the room and even slower, she sat down on the edge of the bed. Kyle was beginning to squirm but she held onto him tightly.

She turned her head to look at him as he sat down on the bed beside her. Without a word, he reached over and took Kyle from her arms, setting the cat down on the floor. Kyle stood there for a moment, trying to figure out his new surroundings. She took a deep breath and extended the cookie she had in her hand out for him.

"Just thinking of eating it makes me feel sick," she admitted.

"You should keep it. Bobby's a hell of a baker," he said. She nodded and pulled the cookie back. He stared at her. "You alright?" He asked.

She shook her head and tried to squeeze her eyes as tight so she didn't start crying in front of him but just thinking of someone coming into her home and looking through her possessions, it made her start to tremble again. You were supposed to feel safe in your home.

She felt his hand lightly on her back and she opened her eyes so she could look at him. He was staring at her, his eyes black as always and he looked angry as he always did and yet, she somehow knew that he wasn't angry at her.

…

* * *

She fell asleep curled up in the bed and when she woke up the next morning, Kyle was curled up against her stomach and sun was streaming in through the windows. She laid there for a few minutes, her brain slowly waking up, and she was surprised she had been able to sleep at all. But she had actually fallen asleep and from what she could tell, it had been a good sleep.

She could tell she was in the bed in alone and she wondered where Happy had slept. She felt guilty for basically kicking him out of his room last night. She sat up and looked at the clock. It was just a little past eight. She only had one class today and it was in the afternoon. She had more than enough time.

She saw that the door to the bedroom had been closed and she sat up, listening for any sort of sound but it was quiet. She wondered if anyone else was there right now and she wondered where Happy was. She sat up and slipped from the bed, immediately turning and making it again, remembering how he said he liked things neat. Kyle waited and once she was done, he hopped back up onto the bed and curling into a ball, promptly went back to sleep.

She crossed the room to the bathroom. It smelled like fresh soap and the walls of the shower were still wet. He must have taken a shower just a little bit ago but she hadn't heard a thing, sleeping too deeply. She didn't want to think of how safe she had felt while sleeping in his bed. She saw that there was a towel sitting on the sink counter and she realized that he had left it out for her. She sat on the toilet and relieved herself and after washing her hands, she went to her bag to get her toothbrush. She wasn't going to take a shower. She would wait until she got home. She may have felt safe around him but that didn't mean she wanted to be naked around him in his biker gang clubhouse.

When she came from the bathroom, she wasn't sure why but something caught the corner of her eye and she turned her head, looking to the desk in the corner of the room. She felt her heart stop beating in her chest when she stared at it and realized what she was staring at.

Slowly, she approached the desk and saw the stack of envelopes there, bound together with a rubber band. When she got a closer look, she knew exactly what they were. Her letters. Every single letter she had written to him when he was in prison, they were there. All open and looking rather worn as if they had been read more than once. He had kept all of them.

…

* * *

Her dress today was a dark green and she wore a black light-weight cardigan with her black and white Converse sneakers. She knew the women who came into this clubhouse didn't dress like this but she didn't care. This is what she wore. She liked wearing skirts and dresses and wore them nearly every day. And why wouldn't she wear what she liked? And it wasn't as if she was going to become a regular here.

She stepped from the room with her bag slung back onto her shoulder and Kyle in her arms and she went down the hallway that spilled into the larger room. She saw a short man wearing an apron standing behind the bar and Gemma sitting on a stool next to the man she had first met last night with the scars on his cheeks.

Gemma saw her first and gave her a smile. "Morning, sweetie. Do you want some coffee?" She asked.

"Okay," she nodded.

The man with the scars stood up, smiling. "There he is," he said and came up to her, his arms out and she laughed a little as she passed Kyle from her arms into his.

She came to the bar and she couldn't help but look around. It seemed to be only them though and she had hoped he would be there, too.

"Don't worry," Gemma then said as if reading her mind. "Happy had to run an errand with Tig. He'll be back."

She nodded as if she knew who Tig was and the man behind the bar set a cup of coffee down in front of her.

"M' Lady," he smiled at her and she smiled a little in return.

"Thank you," she said and his smile grew, practically beaming.

She glanced at the prosthetic hands he wore, only both of his index fingers still intact, before she looked away again. She was naturally curious but it definitely wasn't her business. She imagined he received enough stares and questions.

The man sat down in his stool again beside her, Kyle in his arms, the cat purring as the man rubbed him behind his ear. She heard a few pots and pans clanging together and she looked over her shoulder to see that the clubhouse also had a kitchen and the other man from last night – his name Bobby – stepped out, another plate in his hands. He came to the bar and set it down.

Fresh bread.

But before he could say anything, his cell phone began to ring and he answered it.

"I'll ask her. She's right here," he said after a moment of listening. She was surprised when he looked at her. "What color was your Keurig?" He asked.

"Um," she shook her head slightly as if shaking herself of her confusion. "Purple."

"Purple," Bobby spoke into the phone and then listened again for another moment as the person on the other end said something. "Did I say teal? It's purple, Tig." And with that, he ended the call and then smiled at them. "Banana bread?"

…

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**Thank you so much for reading and please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

…

**Chapter Six. **

Happy followed her home on his bike and she didn't protest. Her landlord, Peter, already had a contractor there, fixing the window and giving all of the doors new locks and she went inside to look around in the light of day. Happy stayed outside, talking with Peter in the driveway and she didn't want to think about what Happy was saying to him or what Peter was thinking of her showing up with this biker covered in tattoos.

When Happy came inside, she was in her bedroom, unpacking the bag she had hurriedly packed the night before. He stood in the doorway and she lifted her head, looking at him. He seemed so out of place. Her house was decorated in shades of yellow and purple and white and he stood there in his leather vest and tattoos and she tried to imagine what he would be like if he stayed there. And then she wondered where the hell that thought had come from.

"Checked all the windows and doors. The club knows a guy, too. I'll get an alarm system set up in here. Talked to your landlord about it," he said.

"I don't know if I can afford an alarm system," she felt herself frowning.

He ignored the comment and strode into the room, going to the window beside her bed and making sure that one was latched tightly. She watched him. He then turned and he frowned when he saw Kyle on the bed, lazily swishing his tail back and forth.

"You should get a dog, too," he then commented.

"I can't get a dog," she shook her head, almost finding his statement amusing and ludicrous at the same time. "I'm not home enough. Cats are very self-sufficient."

"They're useless," he snorted a little.

"If you're going to insult Kyle, you can just leave," she then said in a firm tone.

He smirked but he didn't make a move towards the door and she definitely didn't think of how relieved she was that he was staying. At least for a little longer.

…

* * *

She was back to working her night shifts at the diner and he was back to coming in for his Coke and cheesecake. They were also back to not really talking to one another. He was quiet as he ate and she was quiet as she took the time to study.

"You two have the cutest courtship!" Natalie practically squealed.

She just rolled her eyes and ignored her.

…

* * *

She had torn her house apart but she couldn't find her deodorant anywhere. It was no big deal. She had gone out and bought another one and it was just a deodorant stick. It wasn't as if she had some sort of personal attachment to it. But she couldn't think of why it had just disappeared.

And then she remembered that she had taken it with her that night she had gone to the clubhouse to see him and stayed the night. She must have left it in his room.

It wasn't important in the least and yet, she found herself getting in her car and making the nearly hour long drive to Charming. She didn't know why so she didn't think of it. She just did it. She seemed to be going to him so much and it had become a habit that she knew she needed to break. It had been so easy to stay away from him – before he had gone away to prison. He had scared her so much then and he still scared her yet there was something else. Maybe it was that dream she had had that she hadn't been able to forget or how he had sent Phil to the diner that night to keep vigil or the way that he had saved every single letter she wrote him.

When she parked her car, she saw the garage was open and there were guys working on cars as always. She headed towards the clubhouse, fingers picking at one another nervously as she opened the door and stepped inside. It was only after she entered did she wonder if she should have knocked. She nearly turned and left. She really shouldn't have come. She had absolutely no business being here.

"Hi, Emily," Phil smiled from behind the bar, greeting her.

And she felt herself smiling faintly as she looked at Phil. "Hi," she greeted shyly. "I'm… is Happy around?" She asked.

Phil's smile dropped a little. She heard a toilet flush and then a door opened and she looked, expecting it to be Happy but instead, it was a man probably around Happy's age with dark curly hair and wearing a leather cut like everyone else around here.

He took one look at her and gave an appreciative whistle. "Well, hello beautiful."

"This is Emily," Phil spoke up.

The man stopped in mid-step and looked at her, his eyes slightly wide. "You're Emily?" He asked.

Her stomach was rolling over and over again and she forced herself to laugh a little to hide her nerves. "Why does everyone know me?" She finally asked out loud.

The man didn't answer; just kept staring at her.

She heard a door down the hallway open and then a click of heels. A young woman appeared with long blonde hair, obviously fake breasts and a skirt that barely covered her ass. Emily knew if she wore heels that high, she'd fall flat on her face.

The woman was smiling and fluffing her hair. And a second later, Happy was coming down the hallway after her, tugging on a tee-shirt. She felt her stomach drop completely. It didn't take any sort of genius to figure out what they had been doing.

Happy saw her and stopped short just the way the man had done moments earlier when he learned her name. He stared at her and he began frowning as he seemed to always do when he saw her.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice demanding an answer.

She stared at him and looked nowhere else. She really could care less if it made him uncomfortable though she doubted she could do that to him. Nothing could ever make a man like him uncomfortable and besides, he hadn't done anything wrong. He was free to do whatever the hell he wanted with whoever the hell he wanted.

"I think I left something in your room when I was here," she informed him.

The blonde looked at her, her eyes moving from her feet up her body – her Converse sneakers, her little floral dress and her worn jean jacket – and scoffed before looking back to Happy. "Her?" Was all she asked.

Happy didn't say anything though. His jaw clenched and she saw his fist tighten. "I threw it out," he ground out to her.

She kept staring at him and he stared at her and she knew he wanted her to get the hell out of there. And honestly, she wanted to get the hell out of there, too.

Without a word, she turned and left, stepping back out into the bright sunshine. Her keys were still in her hand and she walked straight to her car. She heard someone approach her from behind and she knew it was him even before he grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. She instantly put a hand on his chest and yanked her arm back, her glare sharp as she tilted her up to look at him.

"You can't just show up," he said, looking just as pissed.

"Believe me. I won't be doing it again," she snapped and she turned back to her car.

She got in and drove out of the lot, glancing back to see him storm to the clubhouse.

…

* * *

She went to her parents' every Sunday for a family dinner and with her brother in Los Angeles, it was always just the three of them.

"Are you alright, honey?" Her mom asked, watching her carefully as she stirred the pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove.

And Emily, pulling three plates down from the cabinet to set the table, nodded and made sure to flash her mom a smile. "Of course I am," she said. "Just thinking about this lab I have to do in one of my classes tomorrow."

Her mom just looked at her, clearly not believing her, but she didn't ask again.

…

* * *

She heard his motorcycle coming and when he entered the diner, she had already placed his Coke and cheesecake down at his usual place.

"Wanna order something else," he told her.

She raised an eyebrow. He had been coming here for two years and had never even looked at the menu. Silently, she went to him and handed him one of the laminated menus. She pulled out her ordering pad and pen and stood there silently, waiting. His eyes scanned over the typical offerings of a highway diner and she stood there, not saying anything, looking at him. He really wasn't that handsome. And he was mean. He was just… mean.

"Ham and cheese omelet," he said, looking at her, holding the menu back to her.

She took it from him and without saying anything or looking at him again, she went into the kitchen. Norman was just waking up from his nap, yawning as he stood up, stretching his arms over his head. She didn't speak to him either as she handed him Happy's order. She then left the kitchen and returned to the dining room. She didn't look at him as she returned to her spot next to the cash register, her eyes dropped down to her open textbook and more than prepared to ignore him. She heard him stand up but she didn't lift her head – not even as he stood right in front of her.

He sighed heavily after a minute of standing there. "Seriously?"

She lifted her head then and gave him an overly sweet smile. "Can I help you?"

He just stared at her. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulling something out, he dropped it onto her book. She looked at it for a moment, blinking at it, and then slowly, she lifted the necklace, hanging it in front of her face.

"How did you get this?" She asked in a whisper. She stared at the heart-shaped locket for another moment and then looked at him.

"That the right one?" He was staring at her.

She slowly nodded her head. "This was stolen from my house…"

"I found it," was all he said.

She looked at him as she fastened it around her neck and then she looked down as it hung down between her breasts as it always had. "My dad gave it to me when I graduated from high school," she explained to him as if he would care. She clasped her hand around it and looked at him. "Thank you so much, Happy," she said softly. "How did you get it back?" She asked.

"You really wanna know?" He asked and then went back to his stool without another word.

…

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**Thank you very much for reading and please comment!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Many of you have been requesting a Happy POV chapter. I think Happy would be such a difficult character to write but I'm going to try. The next chapter will be his chapter when he is in prison, receiving Emily's letters, and it will be explained why the club knows about her. **

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…

**Chapter Seven. **

She loved Sundays. She didn't have work or class and she could spend the entire day in her pajamas if she wanted to. After taking a shower and straightening things in her house a bit, she laid stretched out on the couch, reading a paperback that had absolutely nothing to do with any of her classes. She never got to read for fun and she was going to take advantage of her free day and do nothing but finish her book.

As she rose to her feet to get more grapes from the kitchen, she heard the roar of an approaching motorcycle and she froze, frowning. She looked back to Kyle as he laid in his usual spot in the chair in front of the window as if he could provide an explanation but the cat kept sleeping. She hurriedly put the bowl down on the coffee table and then went to the front door, making sure to disarm the alarm first before she unlocked it and pulled it open.

He was pulling into her driveway and she watched as he turned the bike off and he looked up, seeing her standing there. He didn't get off and she stood there for a moment, wondering what he was doing there. But he just kept sitting and waiting and she had to assume.

She turned back into the house, leaving the front door open, and she laced up her Converse sneakers and grabbed her messenger bag, slinging it on over her head and across her chest. Her heart was rapidly pounding in her chest but she didn't stop to think because if she did, she knew she wouldn't go.

Outside, he was still sitting and waiting and she closed the door behind her, locking it securely and slipping the keys into her bag as she came down to him. Still without a word, he handed her the helmet and she clasped it securely onto her head. She climbed onto the bike behind him, her heart feeling like it was now in her throat. She slipped her arms around his waist and he started his bike again, revving it a few times and then slowly pulling out of the driveway.

He waited for a moment and when she tightened her arms around him, that was when he took off down the street.

…

* * *

He drove them for nearly a half hour and her legs were starting to feel numb but then he turned down a street and brought them to a stop outside of a two-story brick building with a green lawn and nicely kept hedges and flowerbeds. On a sign, she saw 'Bakersfield Hospice' and she looked to him for answers but he was climbing off the bike and not saying anything.

She climbed off the bike and had to lean against it until she could feel her legs again. She took the helmet off and he took it from her, putting it into the bag on the side of the bike. He still didn't explain what they were doing there but she followed him into the building, the familiar scents of a nursing home – antiseptic and bleach – tickling deep inside her nose, threatening a sneeze.

They came to a room at the end of the hallway and stopped outside of the door. For the first time, he looked at her. She looked up at him, curious, but not asking questions, and he definitely wasn't providing her with an explanation.

He walked into the room and she hesitated for just a moment before following. There was a small, old woman sitting up in the bed, propped up with several pillows behind her. She was wearing a white nightgown with a pink bathrobe. The tray across the bed had a cup of red jell-o as well as a stack of crossword puzzle books. The television bolted to the wall was on, the volume soft on a daytime talk show.

She turned her head and looked to see who had entered her room.

"Happy," the woman smiled.

"Hi, mama," Happy leaned over the bed and kissed her cheek.

She said something then in Spanish and he responded back in the same language. He then turned his head to look back to Emily before looking back to his mother.

"This is Emily," he said and took a step to the side, closer to his mother's head so Emily could step forward.

She smiled warmly at the woman and the woman smiled in return. "Hi, Mrs. Lowman," she said.

"Emily," the woman smiled as if she had never heard a better name than that. "Both of you sit. Sit," she said and then said something in rapid Spanish. Emily looked to Happy as she lowered herself into one of the chairs.

Happy sat in the other. "No, mama," was all he said.

Mrs. Lowman then looked at Emily. "You are beautiful," she said.

Emily felt her cheeks warm. "Thank you. You are, too. I have no idea where Happy came from," she then said and Mrs. Lowman laughed softly. "He's really named Happy? I just thought that was a silly nickname."

Of course, silly and Happy belonged nowhere together in the same sentence.

"No," Mrs. Lowman smiled at her son then. "He's my Happy. Made me the happiest woman when he was born. If only he smiled more."

Happy only smirked and said nothing.

She began to cough then and Happy moved to get up but Emily was already moving, pouring from the water pitcher on the tray table into her plastic cup for her. She then held it to Mrs. Lowman's mouth, helping her take a sip.

"Better?" She asked.

"You are a very sweet girl," Mrs. Lowman said and Emily smiled, sitting down in her chair again. "Now tell me everything. Happy has never brought a girl to meet me before." She then looked to her son and said something in Spanish and Emily looked to Happy and he just shook his head, looking at his mama.

Emily laughed a little, feeling embarrassed and shy and still a little confused. She wasn't sure what to say. "Um, I'm a nursing student. Just a couple of years left. And I work as a waitress at a diner. That's where Happy and I actually met. He's one of my regulars," she said, watching as Mrs. Lowman was smiling at everything she said.

She then looked to Happy and he only glanced at her for a moment before looking back to his mama.

They stayed for nearly an hour, Emily answering any question about her that Mrs. Lowman asked but anytime she asked a question about her involvement with Happy, he would sweep in and change the subject. She wondered just how much his mom knew about him. Of course, it wasn't as if she knew anything about him either. But surely, his own mother knew he had been in prison, her son disappearing for fourteen months. But she didn't say anything about that just in case she didn't know.

When they were ready to leave, Happy stood up and Emily followed his lead. He leaned over and kissed his mama on the cheek and she said something to him in Spanish in which he answered and she smiled, patting his cheek, saying something else and then looking to Emily.

"Will you visit me again?" She asked.

"Of course I will," Emily easily promised and leaned over, kissing the woman on her wrinkled cheek and smiled as Mrs. Lowman smiled at her. She noticed how warm the woman's brown eyes were and wondered how Happy's had gotten so cold.

Once they were outside again, Emily made a move to climb onto the back of the bike but Happy grabbed her arm, stopping her. She looked up at him.

"Thanks for that," he said. "She's always wanted to see me settle down. Didn't see anything wrong with telling a little lie."

She gave him a small smile and nodded. "Are you an only child?" She asked. He nodded. "I can tell. She adores you."

He nodded again. "She's a good mom."

"Can I ask…"

"Pancreatic cancer," he answered.

"I'm sorry," she told him softly, her eyes never leaving him.

He was the one to look away, giving a shrug. "All gotta go sometime."

"Doesn't make it easier," she said gently.

He didn't say anything to that. He reached into the bag and pulled out the helmet, handing it to her and then climbing onto the bike. She fastened the helmet on her head and slipped on behind him, her arms circling his waist tightly.

…

* * *

"You want something to drink?" She asked once he pulled into her driveway and cut off the bike.

He nodded and stepped off. She handed him the helmet and she felt him behind her, following her to her front door. When they stepped inside, she closed the door behind them again and immediately set the alarm.

"I have water, milk, orange juice and…" she trailed off, going into the kitchen and taking a look into her refrigerator. "Grapefruit juice."

"That's disgusting," he said, standing in the doorway.

"Do you know how many necessary vitamins are in grapefruit?" She asked.

She looked at him and again noticed how out of place he looked standing there in her house. He stood there, his face in his natural frown, his eyes black as always, and her stomach still clenched around him because he was terrifying as always but it didn't clench as badly as it used to. She didn't know what that meant because she was still afraid of him but she knew something had slowly shifted – so small, she had hardly noticed it at all but she knew it had happened. He wondered if he felt it, too; if a guy like him was even capable of feeling something like that.

"Do you have a beer?" He asked instead.

She laughed a little. "No."

And then he was standing right in front of her. She looked up at him and she knew what he was going to do but it still startled her when he actually did. His hand went to the back of her head, nearly gripping her hair, and then he was kissing her. Just like the first time he kissed before he left for prison and those kisses on the swing set, this kiss was hard, almost brutal, and yet, she found herself welcoming it.

Just like in her dream, she found herself only wanting more.

…

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**Thank you very much for reading and please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**This chapter makes me incredibly nervous. Thank you so much to everyone who is reading, reviewing and liking this story. **

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…

**Chapter Eight.**

Tig was the worst cellmate to have. He was like some little kid, always needing to be doing something and be entertained. The other guys, they got bored, yeah, locked up for hours in their cells but they read or wrote or found ways to work out. Tig did none of these things. He just sat and bitched about how bored he was.

Most of the time, Happy was able to just ignore him. Other times, all he had to do was cut a look over to Tig and he knew he better shut up.

He spent his time doing pushups or reading or lying on his bunk and thinking. It wasn't the first time he was serving time and it wouldn't be the last and he knew that too much thinking could usually only lead to more trouble. But he laid there and found himself thinking – more than anything else – of her.

It was dangerous to think about her. Stupid, too, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He thought of her in her blue waitressing uniform, standing behind the counter, clearly terrified of him but always standing there, ready to get him what he needed. She was something he had never been able to call a woman. Sweet. Yeah, his mom was sweet but that was different. Of course she was. She was his mom. But the waitress, that girl was someone he had never had around him before. All of the women associated with the club, some were just as mean and hard as any of the men. When he fucked the random crow eaters, they always fucked him back.

But he laid on his bunk and thought of what it would be like to fuck Emily. She wasn't the sort of girl to fuck and that was reason enough to get her the hell out of his mind. He didn't have room for a girl like that. Some girl who wanted to get married and have babies and have a sweet a life just as sweet as her.

She wasn't like anyone else he knew and maybe that was why he couldn't get her out of his head. Maybe, lying locked in a cell, he needed to think of something completely different than what had gotten him here in the first place.

No one knew about her. She was his secret. The only one who knew was Jax and that was only because Jax had come on a run with him one night and they had stopped at the diner afterwards. Through the window, Jax had seen Emily at a table, laughing and smiling with a customer and he had gotten a grin on his face.

"I see why you like coming here," Jax joked.

"She's not like that," Happy heard himself say, surprising both of them.

And she wasn't. She wasn't like the sweet butts or the old ladies at the clubhouse. Even Jax's old lady, for being a doctor, she was able to handle herself. Emily, though, she had absolutely nothing to do with anything in his world and something inside of him wanted to keep it that way; keep her away.

But then, Jax had come up to him a few days later. "It slipped to Gemma," he said. "I'm sorry, man."

Happy had just looked at him, his face blank as it almost always was. He wasn't going to let it bother him. So two people knew about her. No big deal. And with him getting locked up, maybe Gemma knowing about her wasn't the worst thing.

"Lowman!" The passing guard called out his name.

Happy pulled himself from the bunk and an envelope was passed to him between the bars. A yellow envelope and looking down at the address on the front, he recognized her handwriting immediately from the first time he had come into the diner and she had handed him a check for his order.

She wrote him. Just like she said she would.

He stood there for a moment, just staring at it. No one besides his mama had ever written him when he was locked up but his mama was too weak now and he hadn't been expecting anything, even after she had said she would.

"What you got there?" Tig asked almost immediately from his top bunk.

Happy ignored him and went back to his bunk, laying down, reaching into the envelope – which the guards had already opened – and pulled out the two sheets of paper she had written her letter on. Her handwriting was small, neat print and he almost felt his lips twitch when he read the first two words. _Dear Happy_.

…

* * *

Every week, a letter came and Tig began looking forward to them as much as Happy. He still wouldn't say who they were from. "Just a girl," Happy had told him and Tig hadn't pushed because Happy had given him one of his looks and Tig didn't ask.

Happy read ever single word she wrote. When she got a cat, when she talked about her classes or her birthday, when she told him she cut her hair and that had actually made him frown because he couldn't imagine it short – even just to her shoulders, as she told him – and she told him when she broke up with that pussy scumbag of a boyfriend. That made him smile as much as he did to himself when he read that. About fucking time. He couldn't really respect a girl who let herself be pushed and slapped around by a guy like that and Emily was terrified of him but she didn't seem to put up with his shit so why did she put up with some other guy's?

He began reading them to Tig – Tig lying on his bed and Happy lying on his and reading Emily's letters.

"What is better than cream cheese frosting?" She wrote in one letter. "I went to the store the other day and I was grocery shopping and I found myself buying a box of the Philadelphia cream cheese so I could go and make my own. I've never made frosting before but I figured it can't be that hard. I'm studying to be a nurse. Surely, I can make my own frosting. But learning to make it might be dangerous because then I will be able to have cream cheese frosting whenever I want."

Tig smirked from his bed. "She's got that right. When we get out, we should have Bobby bake one of his carrot cakes," he said.

Happy didn't say anything. He read over the next paragraph to himself and then sat up so fast, he nearly smacked his head on the bed above him.

"What?" Tig sat up, too, when Happy stood up, his hands clutching the letter so tightly, the paper was wrinkling. His eyes were black and his jaw was clenched as he read her words again and again.

As soon as he was out of his cell for rec time, he got in line for the phone and called Chibs. He told him that he needed someone to be checked in on, that there might be a threat, and Chibs said that Phil might be a good person to have around. Happy had been reluctant with that choice but Chibs assured him that Phil was a good shot if the situation called for it.

"She'll be fine," Tig said when they were outside in the yard.

"Who's she?" Clay asked, overhearing.

"Emily?" But then Jax had to open his mouth and Happy turned a glare on him.

"Who's Emily?" Bobby asked.

Happy didn't answer any of them.

…

* * *

He was locked up for fourteen months and she wrote him sixty letters. Every week, without fail, the guard came by and called out his name and handed him an envelop with her handwriting. Sometimes, the letter was just a page. The longest was four. He laid on his bed and read every single word.

She didn't have to write him. She had absolutely no obligation to him and yet, she did. And he knew she didn't know it, but she helped him get through those fourteen months. The other times, he had just sat in his cell and counted each day and got through each one, every day nothing more than a countdown to getting out again. But her letters gave him something else to look forward to. Every week, when her letter arrived, he read it the instant it was in his hand. He laid on his bunk and read every word and tried to imagine her when she wrote it.

He wondered how it would be between them when he got out. Would she still be scared of him? He kind of liked that she was. The girls hanging around the clubhouse, they all wanted that kind of life and they got what they asked for. But Emily, with her big eyes and nervous steps around him, it only reminded him how different she was. Most different thing in his life.

And he knew he wanted to keep her that way.

…

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**Thank you so much for reading and please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you so much for the feedback on the last chapter. It means so much to me that so many are enjoying this story and finding it to be in character with the show. As for the next chapter, there are some things I want to write but I really want to write them from Happy's POV so next chapter will be his again. **

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…

**Chapter Nine.**

"Wait."

She gasped the word, hardly able to breathe, and she felt her chest tighten, not sure if he would actually stop. But he pulled his mouth away and she saw that he didn't look at all surprised. He took a step back as she remained leaning against the counter, trying to catch her breath, her knees still feeling weak beneath her.

She looked at him and he looked completely unaffected with everything that had just happened in her small kitchen. She wondered if this had ever happened to him – a woman stopping and telling him no. She had seen the women that hung around the club and it seemed like as a member, he could have any woman he wanted. She knew that once leaving here, he would just find one of those other women. He had done that last time she had stopped them and she knew he would do it again without a second thought.

"Are you a virgin?" He asked her suddenly.

The question didn't surprise her and yet, her eyes widened slightly as if she was. "No," she then shook her head. "But I'm not the kind of girl to have sex with a guy in her kitchen who she barely knows."

"Already knew that," he grunted. He pulled a chair out from the table and sat down as if he belonged there. He frowned when he looked down and saw Kyle rubbing against his leg and she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from laughing at the scene. "See?" He looked at her. "I can make a pussy purr."

Her face instantly screwed up into one of disgust. "Don't be gross," she sighed and he actually broke into a grin. "You hungry?" She turned towards the freezer and pulled the door open. She looked at what she could offer him and pulled out a bag of frozen chicken nuggets, setting it on the counter.

"Seriously?" He was back to frowning.

She just looked at him. "Yep, chicken nuggets and grapefruit juice."

It was his turn to look disgusted.

…

* * *

He disappeared for a few weeks and she told herself not to worry. That was what he did. She knew absolutely nothing about his business or what he did when he wasn't in the diner but she knew that this was what he did. He disappeared.

She worked and went to school and studied as hard as she always did. And she did her best to not think about him. If anyone could take care of himself, it was Happy.

But every time she heard a roar of a motorcycle, she lifted her head and held her breath until she realized that it wasn't him and she felt something inside of her deflate. She realized that she didn't even have his number to call him. No, she didn't want his number. She had no reason to have his number. And she told herself that she wouldn't go to the clubhouse either. She had been there enough times and he always seemed so pissed whenever she showed up.

She was almost tempted to write him a letter and send it to the garage but she talked herself out of doing that, too. They had kissed a few times and she had met his mother but she told herself that none of those things mattered. The mother thing had been serious but it had just been a lie she had helped him tell and as for the kissing, he kissed a ton of other women.

Still, deep down, she admitted to herself that she missed him. She really missed him.

…

* * *

Juice had called Natalie – apparently they had exchanged numbers that night of the homecoming party – and he invited both to the clubhouse. She didn't want to go but at the same time, she knew it was probably the only way to see Happy since he hadn't been to the diner in nearly two months.

She parked her car down the street where she had parked it the last time and Natalie left her behind, already running down the sidewalk towards the clubhouse. She walked at a much slower pace, a part of her wondering why the hell she was here again. Did she really want to see Happy that badly?

She sighed softly to herself, stepping through the gate. She didn't even approach the clubhouse. Instead, she looked around the darkened lot and saw that the playground set was unoccupied. She would just sit on the swing again until Natalie was ready to go home again.

She kicked a pebble as she walked and didn't look towards the clubhouse, music pounding from within. She tried not to think if Happy was inside, probably a half-dressed woman draped over him. She looked down at what she was wearing – her Converse sneakers and a white cotton dress that showed just a little bit of her thigh and none of her cleavage. What cleavage? She barely had breasts. She saw the women always around him.

She sat down on one of the swings and slowly began pushing herself back and forth, not getting enough air but enough for a slight wind to blow her hair and the hem of her dress.

She heard two motorcycles pulling into the lot but she didn't look to see who it was. It wasn't as if she knew anyone here anyway. It was only when she heard footsteps approaching did she lift her eyes. It was him. He was coming right for her as if he knew that she would be there. Without a word, she stood up, looking at him, bracing herself for him to tell her to get the hell away from here.

But he didn't say anything. Instead, without a word, he grabbed her hand, his grip tight – almost too tight – and he led her towards the clubhouse. She didn't tell him to let her go or struggle to get away from him. Instead, she just followed him. He led her into the clubhouse and she looked around at the room filled with people. People drinking and playing pool and women stripping for men's delight but Happy didn't stop. He kept pulling her down the hallway to the door that led to his room.

Her heart was hammering in her chest and she felt something pulling in her stomach that could be mistaken for anticipation. She knew what was going to happen in his room tonight but she didn't try to stop it. She felt excited and scared and nervous and she let herself be pulled.

He tugged her into the room and closed the door behind them, clicking the lock in place, the sounds of the party muffled from the other side.

She stood in the middle of the room, near the bed, and looked at him. He stood near the door, staring at her, his eyes black as he set them on her. Still, neither of them exchanged a word.

She kept her eyes locked on him as she sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off her shoes, setting them aside. She then stood up again and her hands went to the zipper on the back of her dress. She could feel herself almost trembling as she lowered it down and then brushed the thin straps from her shoulders. The dress fell down her body with a soft whoosh, pooling at her feet. She didn't wear lace or silk or a thong – things he was probably always seeing on the women in his room. Her bra was cotton and her underwear was boy-cut shorts.

She looked at him as her stomach rolled but she did nothing to cover herself. She knew this was going to happen tonight and if it didn't happen tonight, it would happen eventually. Maybe this between them had always been inevitable.

He finally stepped away from the door and his eyes never left her as he took off the leather cut, tossing it on top of the dresser. He then took another step forward as he brought the zipper down of his hooded sweatshirt. When he took of his tee-shirt, he was now standing directly in front of her and she nearly gasped when she saw his bare torso. He was covered – absolutely covered – in tattoos.

On his lower right front side, she saw a clumping of happy face tattoos. At least a dozen of them. She felt her fingers reach out to touch them but before she could, his fingers circled her wrist, stopping her, surprising her and almost making her gasp.

And then he was kissing her. Hard as always.

She still felt nervous as he began pushing her back onto the bed but she still didn't stop any of it from happening or moving forward. But as they kissed and she felt his hands gripping her thighs, spreading them open so they were on either side of his hips, she felt anxious, too, with expectation.

She knew she could admit it to herself even if she couldn't admit it to him.

She had really missed him when he was gone.

…

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**Thank you so much for reading and please comment!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I honestly have no idea how long this story will be. I never planned on it being this long but I fell in love with Happy and Emily along the way so I'm going to see where they take me. **

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…

**Chapter Ten.**

She wasn't like one of the girls from Caracara or one of the crow eaters. They were all so damn loud. Every move and every sound they made was over exaggerated.

But Emily laid there beneath him, her gasps and moans quiet. She clutched him, her nails in his skin or her hands fisted in the bed sheets, whispering his name as he slammed into her. He wasn't a gentle guy to be in bed with and he knew Emily was the sort of girl who had boyfriends who were slow and soft with her but she knew he wasn't like that. She was crying out softly and he could tell he was giving her pleasure but at the same time, he was pounding her in a way she had never experienced before. He didn't care though that it was her first time like this. He showed her no mercy.

He was making it good for her but he knew he was hurting her at the same time.

He held himself above her, staring down into her face, his skin slapping against hers. He watched the way her eyes were closed and the way her mouth was parted. She was small and tight and wet and natural in a way he hadn't had in a woman in a long time. He felt her hands on his back, fingers trying to grip his skin, and she lifted her hips to meet his, breathing his name.

He watched her the entire time and when she cried out his name as she fell apart, he couldn't stop himself before he leaned down and fused his mouth to hers, feeling her cling to him even tighter.

…

* * *

He hadn't wanted to do this with her. Not here. She didn't belong here and never would but he saw her sitting on that swing in her white dress and he knew that staying away from her wasn't really an option for him anymore.

He tried so hard to keep her away from this. He got pissed whenever she showed up because there wasn't a single part of her that fit into any of this. He sometimes looked at Jax's old lady, Tara, a fucking doctor, and he couldn't figure out why she stuck around with Jax. He guessed there was love and all of that bullshit but it still didn't make too much sense to him.

Emily didn't belong here and she was terrified of him. At least she still kind of was. And he had to make sure that it all stayed that way.

She was asleep now, curled on her side facing him, the sheet pulled up over her naked body, and he sat up next to her, his back against the wall, and he chewed on a toothpick, listening to the sounds of the dying party on the other side of the door.

He looked down to Emily. Another different thing about her. She wasn't hot. She was cute. Maybe even pretty. But she wasn't like porn star hot and he couldn't remember the last woman he had had sex with who wasn't that. She was sweet and cute and she was everything he had never had in his life and everything he knew he didn't want. He liked the difference he had with her. Someone who didn't know the first thing about the club or what he did outside of seeing her in the diner and around her, he could almost be someone else if he wanted to be.

There was a knock on the door and he looked to her but she was still sleeping. He pulled himself from the bed and grabbed his boxers, yanking them on. He then crossed the room and opened the door to find Tig standing there. He grinned knowingly when he saw Happy but he just placed himself in the doorway so Tig couldn't look into the room and see Emily in the bed.

"Emily came with a friend and she's ready to go," Tig said.

"Have someone make sure she gets home," Happy told him.

Tig nodded and gave him another smile but Happy just stared at him and said nothing and stepped into the room, shutting the door again. He went to the bathroom and when he came out, he saw Emily was still lying on her side but her eyes were open now and he went back to the bed, sitting up beside her.

Emily didn't say anything for a moment, just looking up at him. "I'm not your old lady, am I?" She asked softly.

He just kept chewing on his toothpick. "No."

She closed her eyes. "Good," she said softly.

…

* * *

He was usually an early riser and Emily had a class she had to get to. Her friend had taken her car home last night so Happy would have to drive her back to her house. He got himself dressed and then watched as she sat down to tug on her shoes, tying the laces. No six-inch heels for her. When she stood up, she saw him looking at her. She looked at him for a moment before looking around the room, making sure she had everything though she hadn't come in with anything.

"Let's go," he said.

She nodded and he opened the door, letting her step through first.

The club had already been cleaned from the party the night before – prospects being put to work – and Chucky was pouring coffee for Jax and Opie as they sat at the table. Chucky saw Emily and he smiled widely.

"Good morning, m'lady," he gave a small bow. "Would you like some coffee?"

She looked at Happy before looking to Chucky, giving him a smile. "That would be wonderful. Thank you."

"Coffee, coffee, never tea. Only coffee as sweet as the sweetie," Chucky recited, turning and going back into the kitchen.

Emily looked at Happy with a curious and confused small smile but Happy just shrugged, sitting down on one of the stools at the bar, putting his elbows up on the bar behind him.

Opie stood up and drained the rest of his coffee. "Gotta go," he said and without looking at any of them or saying another word, he left the clubhouse.

Happy watched as Emily stood there, not quite sure what to do, and he didn't say anything. He kind of liked seeing her so out of place, standing there in her white dress and her hair a mess, looking as if she had gotten herself good and fucked the night before.

Chucky came from the kitchen and handed her a cup of coffee and then looked to him to see if he wanted one. Happy just shook his head though. Jax drained his own cup and stood up, looking to Happy.

"I need you at the warehouse today," he said.

"Gotta take her home first. I'll go straight there after."

"Sounds good," Jax said. He then smiled at Emily. "Hope to see more of you around here, darlin'," he said and Emily smiled faintly at him, not saying anything.

Jax left then, too, and it was just her and him in the clubhouse, Chucky humming as he worked away in the kitchen. She sipped her coffee and looked at him. He looked at her and still didn't say anything.

She slid her cup, still half full with coffee, onto the table and then came to stand in front of him. "Are we going to do this again?" She asked.

"Do what?" He asked, deciding he wanted to hear her say it.

She just stared at him. The toothpick was still in his mouth on one side and he moved it to the other, never taking his eyes from her. He was surprised that she was still able to look at him. Most found themselves looking away when he stared at them for so long. He was always the alpha. But Emily stood there and stared at him and she didn't flick her eyes away once. And suddenly, he reached a hand out and slid it over her hip, tugging her forward until she stood between his knees.

"I'm obviously going through a very intense bad boy phase," she said and he smirked at that. Bad boy was too mild of a term for him but he didn't point that out. "Would you want to do this again?" She asked.

"Do what?" He still wanted to hear her say it.

She sighed at him and gave him a look but he just smirked and didn't say anything else. She then took a step forward, moving in even closer to him. Her hands rested lightly on his thighs. "If we're going to _fuck_ again," she whispered and his hands tightened on her hips. "You're going to fuck only me. I've seen the girls that hang around here."

He smirked at that and stared into her eyes. "You don't order me around unless you're wearing a cut," he said.

Emily looked at him for a moment and then gave her head a slight nod. She tried to take a step back but his hands were tight on her hips and she was unable to move away from him. He kept her between his legs, his fingers so tight on her, he knew he was probably going to bruise her.

"And if I'm going to keep fucking you, I'll kill any other guy you even look at," he said.

She stared at him and didn't say anything but he could see the slight fear in her eyes. He knew that she knew he meant it and she was afraid. Good. He needed her to keep being scared of him.

…

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**Thank you for reading and please review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A bit of a smutty chapter though not as smutty as I could make it. If you are curious to see who I imagine as Emily, if you go on my tumblr and check my _Sons of Anarchy_ tag, I have pictures of Emily inspiration and of Happy posted. Thank you for reading and supporting this story. **

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**Chapter Eleven.**

He was the only one besides her who knew the security code into her house. At the time, when it had been installed, she had given it to him without a second thought – just in case, she had told both him and herself, and he had looked at her as if she had lost her mind but also, as if she had just done something very smart.

She sat at the kitchen table now, studying for an upcoming exam, reading over her textbooks and notes when she heard the familiar roar of the motorcycle outside. Her stomach clenched as it always did. Nervous, yes, but something else now. Something strong and something that couldn't be ignored as if it was nothing. That time in the clubhouse hadn't been their only time. It had happened again and again – always at her house. And that one time in the alley behind the diner. He was hard and rough and he fucked her in every sense of the word. And she was always so surprised at how much she loved it each time.

She didn't get up and continued studying instead when she heard him come through the front door. She wasn't going to greet him like she was his girlfriend and he was her boyfriend. The term nearly made her snort in amusement. There was absolutely nothing _boy_ about Happy.

He entered the kitchen and she looked up at him as he looked down at her. He didn't say a word and after a moment, she looked back down to her text book. He went to the refrigerator and yanked open the door a little too forcefully, pulling out a bottle of beer that she had bought and put in there just for him. She figured if they were going to keep doing this and he was going to be so generous with giving her orgasms, she figured keeping a few bottles of beer in the house for him wasn't something ridiculous inconvenient for her to do.

He sat down in the chair across from her and still didn't say anything as he took his first guzzle of beer. She read for a couple of paragraphs and highlighted a sentence with her pink highlighter before lifting her head and seeing him staring at her.

"Everything alright?" She asked.

"What are you studying?" He asked instead.

"Physiological/Pathophysiological Basis for Advanced Nursing Practice," she said and held up the front cover of the book so he could see the title. He smirked and took another guzzle of beer. She found herself smiling. "It's not my favorite," she said, tucking hair behind her ear as she looked back down to the book.

"Have no idea why," he smirked a little.

"You staying the night?" She asked, highlighting another sentence.

"Gonna make it worth my while?" He asked and she lifted her head, giving him a look, and he just smirked still at her. "Can't stay the whole night," he then said. "Have to be on my way before dawn."

"What for?" She asked before she could stop herself.

"Club business," he said and that was all he said. That was all he ever said.

And she still had absolutely no idea what that meant. A part of her was curious but she knew most of her didn't want to know the first thing about what he did. She could only imagine and imagining it was bad enough. She let him come to her house, let him between her thighs and she didn't know so much about him. But a guy in a biker gang – she didn't care that he always called it a club – and a guy who went to prison wasn't a very good guy – at least not by her usual standards.

But there was something about him she couldn't fight; couldn't deny herself.

She didn't have grand illusions. She knew this wasn't going to be some grand love story or that it was going to last forever and she didn't want it to. She wouldn't wind up marrying him and having babies with him and building a life with him. He would never meet her parents and there wouldn't be a wedding and taking him to work functions to whatever hospital she got a job at. She was twenty-one years old, having something purely sexual with man who was more than happy to give it to her. Right now, she was just a girl having fun and getting her brains fucked out a few times a week by a man who knew exactly what she wanted and how to do it.

With a soft sigh, she capped her highlighter and rested it in the middle of her book. She then stood up and looked down at him. Without a word, she reached down and took his hand and he slid the beer onto the table before he stood up. She walked backwards, holding his one hand with both of hers and pulling him from the kitchen down the hallway towards the bedroom.

After just a few steps though, Happy crouched down and tossed her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing and she shrieked, breaking out into laughter and she didn't have to see his face to hear him grinning.

…

* * *

He was almost brutal in the way he fucked her. Her high school boyfriend had been awkward. They both had been, neither quite entirely sure what they were doing since they were one another's firsts and still learning about sex. And then Justin may have been an asshole but he had always been sweet and gentle when they had sex. She always considered it as if they were making love.

With Happy though, it hurt and stung but it felt so good and sometimes, it hurt to even walk afterwards and her throat was raw from screaming out but being with him had opened up something within her after that first time and for now, this was exactly how she needed it. And Happy got that without her needing to tell him. She had no idea how he seemed to understand her better than she did at times.

"Happy!" She screamed his name out and he grinned like he always did when she completely lost it, gripping her thighs and pounding into her even faster and harder.

She had learned things about him, too. She knew he loved it when she dragged her nails down his back or when she bit his shoulder. It didn't surprise her in the least that he liked things a little rough with blood being drawn.

She wondered why he liked fucking her. He had never said he wouldn't fuck other women that hung around the clubhouse but if he wasn't making runs or doing his club business, he was here at her house and she didn't know when he had time to be with anyone else. She told herself that she wouldn't care if he was. She told herself that a lot. Why would she care? She didn't own him and he wore protection with her every time. But the thought of him fucking someone else always made her cringe.

In the afterwards, they laid there on their backs side by side, breathing heavily, their skin covered in a sheen layer of sweat. She squeezed her thighs together and winced. Oh, yeah. Tonight was one of those nights where she would be doing as little walking as possible.

Happy noticed. "You okay?" He asked.

She looked at him. "I think you bruised something down there," she said.

"Want me to check?"

And even after what they had just done, she still felt her cheeks blush. In the dark bedroom, he could still tell and he smirked. She never let him smoke in her house – not that he was a big smoker anyway – and after sex, he always chewed a toothpick. He had one in his mouth now and he took it out, tossing it onto the nightstand. He then rolled on top of her and she gasped with surprise. His eyes were black as he stared into her eyes and then he dipped his head down, pressing his mouth between her breasts. He skimmed it down her body, her stomach caving in as a response and her body began to tremble already with anticipation. He had made her come twice already and now they were heading for a third and she didn't know if she could handle another one but she definitely wasn't going to stop him.

But just as he tossed her legs over his shoulders and settled his head between them, the cell phone in his jeans began to ring.

She let out a huff – annoyance and disappointment – and he immediately slid from the bed to grab it and answer it before it could ring for a fourth time.

"Yeah," he answered, already grabbing his boxers from off the floor. "Yeah, I'm with her," he said, glancing back to her as she was still splayed naked on the bed.

She still didn't know how everyone in his "club" knew about her or how they were able to just assume that he was with her. Thank God her parents didn't know she knew bikers or that they knew her or that she was letting one into her bed on a regular basis. This would send them to early graves, for sure.

"I can be out in five minutes," he said. He listened for a moment. "Yeah," he said one more time and ended the call.

She sat up, pulling the bed sheet over her body, and she watched as he began getting himself dressed again.

"Are you doing this with anyone else?" She then blurted out, unable to help herself.

He didn't stop in dressing himself as he looked at her. "You'd care if I was?"

"Yes," she answered, truthful as always.

He finished getting dressed and she averted her eyes as he hooked his knife sheath onto his belt. He was about to leave the bedroom but then he stopped in the doorway and looked back to her in the bed.

"Don't have to worry about that," he said. "Thanks for the beer."

She couldn't help but smile, a wave of relief washing over her. "Thanks for the orgasms," she said.

He popped the toothpick back into his mouth and gave her a grin before he left the bedroom. "Set the alarm after I leave!" He then yelled back to her.

She heard him leave a moment later and she couldn't stop her smile from growing.

…

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**Thank you so much for reading and please review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I started writing this chapter as soon as I finished writing chapter eleven and it's definitely one of my favorite chapters of the story so far. I couldn't wait to post it. I hope you enjoy it, too!**

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**Chapter Twelve.**

She was just walking out of lab for the day when her cell phone began to ring. She didn't recognize the number and she almost didn't answer it but something told her to just see who it was.

"Hello?" She crossed the parking lot towards her car.

"Emily?" A thick accent filled her ear.

Hearing him, she felt herself stop in her tracks and her stomach dropped to her feet. All she could think of in that moment was him. Something had happened to him and now, she was getting the call.

"Happy's here at the clubhouse and I think he needs you. His mother died last night," Chibs said. "Happy hasn't been out of his room."

"Oh my god," she whispered. And now all she could think was poor Happy. She couldn't imagine what he was feeling or going through. She had only seen them interact that one time but it had been obvious that Happy had adored his mom.

"Maybe you can talk to him?" Chibs suggested.

"Yeah. Yes, of course. I just finished with classes for the day so I'm going to go home, get a bag and Kyle and I'll be there in a couple of hours," she said, fumbling with her keys to the car.

"Take your time, darlin'. Like I said, he hasn't left his room all day," he said.

She quickly ended the call and drove home as quickly as she could without getting a speeding ticket. She didn't even pay attention to what she threw in her bag. She was pretty sure she had forgotten most of the essentials but she didn't care about that. She grabbed Kyle and some of his food and then hurried back out to her car.

The normal hour long drive took her forty-five minutes and she hurried into the clubhouse. She didn't even really see who was there. She was aware that there were people in the room but she couldn't seem to focus on anyone until Gemma was standing right in front of her.

"It's good you're here," she said.

Emily swallowed and nodded. "He hasn't left all day?"

"His mom's been sick for so long, I think we've all just been thinking he had dealt with it a long time ago," Gemma explained. "Happy doesn't show a lot."

She almost smiled at that. "No kidding."

She looked past Gemma towards the back of the room that led to the bedrooms in the back. She hoped he would see her but she doubted it. If Happy didn't want to see anyone in this room – his family – why would he open the door to her?

"Here, Emily." And suddenly Tig was in front of her, taking Kyle from her arms.

"Thanks," she murmured quietly, already moving past them and heading down the hallway. She hesitated for a moment in front of the door and she knew everyone in the room had their eyes on her right now. She felt her stomach in her throat as she lifted a fist and knocked lightly on the door. "Happy?" She spoke softly to the wood. "It's Emily. Can I come in?"

She waited a moment but heard no movement from inside.

"Happy, can I come in?" She asked again, knocking softly.

A moment later, she heard a click of a lock and trying the doorknob, she found that it turned. Pushing it open, she saw that Happy was already walking back towards the bed and she slipped into the room, closing and locking the door once more behind her. She watched as he laid down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, and she followed, pausing only to take off her shoes before climbing onto the bed, laying down beside him. Her head rested on the pillow beside him and her arm slipped across his stomach. He didn't make a noise or a move. He just stared up at the ceiling and she stared at him.

"I'm so sorry about your mom," she said softly. "She was such a sweet woman."

"I was a shitty son," he said.

"You were not," she instantly disagreed. "She adored you. Absolutely adored you. And you took such good care of her, Happy."

He didn't say anything; just kept staring up at the ceiling and she wanted to say something else but right now, there wasn't too much else to say. Happy couldn't be reached – not in the place he was at right now.

She laid there with him and didn't say anything else. They were both quiet and she didn't know how long they just laid there. Her head moved and came to a rest on his shoulder. They had never done this before – just laid together – and she wasn't sure if he would like it but he didn't move. She let out a soft breath and felt herself laying as close to him as she could. Happy was not the sort of man who would lay with a woman like this – practically cuddling – but this was different. This was nothing other than just being there for him.

She wasn't sure how long they laid there or when it was that he moved his hand and rested it on her arm across his stomach. She closed her eyes and felt the rise and fall of his chest and she wondered what he was thinking but she didn't ask him. And she wished she knew what she could say to him but both of her parents were still alive and she loved them so much and was so close to them both, she couldn't imagine what it would feel like to lose either of them.

"You need to eat something," she said softly. "Even if it's just something small."

She lifted her head and looked at him but he still didn't say anything. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek, resting them there, closing her eyes for a moment.

When she began to sit up, his fingers tightened around her arm, stopping her. She looked down to him and he stared up at her.

"Her funeral's in a couple of days in Bakersfield. You'll be there?"

She nodded. "Of course I will be," she said without pausing. She leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips this time and she wondered when they had gotten so comfortable with one another where she could do this and he would let her.

She slipped from the bed and tugged her shoes back on before going to the door. She looked back at him over her shoulder and saw that he was sitting up to. She slipped from the room, closing the door behind her, and heading back into the main room. She saw Gemma sitting at the bar, smoking a cigarette, and she headed for her.

"Gemma?" She said her name almost hesitantly. This woman made her as nervous as Happy once did.

Gemma immediately turned her head. "What do you need, sweetheart?"

"Happy needs to eat something," she said. "Is there anything here?"

"Yeah," Gemma got up from her stool. "Chucky's making some of his chili." She turned and followed Gemma into the kitchen. "How is he?" The older woman asked.

She hesitated and then shook her head a little. "He was really close to his mom."

"Yeah," Gemma nodded, lifting the lid of the large pot on the stove and picking up a ladle, she stirred it for a moment. "You don't really hear any of the others talk about their parents but Happy did a lot for his mom."

"That's what I tried to tell him. And she was such a sweet woman. She just loved him so much and he loved her."

Gemma looked at her then for a moment and the woman's face never gave anything away but Emily could see a slight spark of surprise in her eyes.

"You met his mom?" She asked, surprise in her tone, too.

Emily nodded. "He took me to the home she was in and then I went a couple of times on my own. We… we lied to her a little. Told her we were together. She always wanted to see him find someone and he just wanted her to have that at the end."

Gemma smiled a little then and handed Emily two bowls of the steaming chili with spoons. "I'm not seeing the lie in that," was all she said and Emily looked at her for a moment, not entirely too sure what to say to that.

She normally would have argued immediately; would have denied it but instead, something told her it didn't matter right now and giving Gemma a small smile of thanks, she turned and left the kitchen. But Happy was no longer in his room. Instead, he was waiting for her at the bar.

"Hey," she approached him with a slight smile. "Chili?"

He looked past her to Gemma coming out of the kitchen.

"No head in this one, baby," Gemma smiled wryly and Happy smirked a little before taking the bowl she was offering to him.

Emily didn't ask. She figured it was one of those inside "jokes" that they all had with one another that she really didn't want to know about; a part of his life she didn't want to get. She wanted to stay away from all of it but she found herself here, and coming here the second she found out that Happy maybe needed her. He had done so much for her already and she wanted to be able to do things for him, too. They could have gotten someone else in his club or one of the other women that hung around here but they called her. He opened the door to her.

"I need air," he said and with that, he turned and headed for the door.

She paused for just a moment before following after him. He was sitting at the table outside, digging into his bowl of chili and she sat down across from him. She heard two motorcycles pull up and she turned to see that it was Jax and Chibs.

They came towards them and Happy stood up. The three men exchanged hugs and claps on the back, and Emily stood up, too. She was surprised when Chibs hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.

"Thank you for coming," he whispered in her ear.

"Thank you for calling me," she whispered back.

And when she and Chibs pulled away from one another, she looked and saw Happy staring at her, his face blank and his eyes black. Jax put an arm around Happy's shoulders and whispered something in his ear to which Happy nodded. Chibs then stepped in and they formed some sort of huddle, talking to one another in whispers.

She took a step back from the three men and quickly looked away. When it was just her and Happy, she felt alright. She felt like if it could be just the two of them, she could almost seeing them having something. But when the others were around – his friends, his family – she was reminded that she really didn't belong with him, here, in any of this.

She looked back to him. But he had opened the door for her and no one else and that had to mean something. And maybe she wanted it to.

…

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**Thank you so much for reading and please review!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Oh goodness, why am I so addicted to telling this story? I just love Happy and Emily. Thank you for all of the support in regards to this one! I'm debating writing another Happy POV chapter. I think it's needed. **

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**Chapter Thirteen. **

Graduation day and after just a couple hour-long ceremony, she was a nurse. Just like that. They all knew their caps into the air and balloons dropped from the ceiling. Everyone was cheering and snapping pictures and after years of hard work and studying, she had made it. She felt tears flood her eyes as a warmth burst from her chest. She was done. She had made it. She was finally the one thing she had been working so hard to become.

She found her parents and brother in the crowd. They all hugged her tightly and told her how proud they were of her and seeing her mother cry with happiness, she couldn't help but start to do the same thing. Her dad snapped picture after picture of her in her gown holding her nursing diploma and different shots with the family. The whole time, she stood there and couldn't stop smiling.

They went out for a celebratory meal at her favorite Italian restaurant and they sat for almost three hours, talking and eating.

"Where were you thinking of applying?" Her brother asked.

"Well, St. Thomas is really the only hospital around in this particular area. I was thinking of putting my name in there and seeing if anything would happen. If not, I could always move wherever I need to. Maybe even down to LA near you," she said.

"You'll find something," her dad said. "There's always a need for a nurse."

"You'll wind up where you're supposed to be," her mom smiled at her.

She smiled, too, and though she knew it wasn't the best hospital in the world – not by a long shot – she found herself hoping she could get a position at St. Thomas. She just didn't want to think of _why_ she wanted to be there.

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* * *

She felt like she was doing something stupid or silly when she sent a message to Happy, suddenly acting like he was her boyfriend or something. But she couldn't seem to stop herself.

_I graduated today_, she typed to him.

_I remember_, he messaged back. _You should come here. We'll do something._

She felt herself smiling. Something had changed between them since the death of his mother and he had opened the door for her. She tried not to think about it and she definitely didn't mention it to him, somewhat convinced it was all in her head, and she would wonder why she wanted things to change between them at all.

He was still scary, still in a motorcycle "club", still did things that she had no idea nor did she want to know. She should want to have absolutely nothing to do with someone like him, let alone having something that had the opportunity to change between them. What was she doing with him? She tried to talk herself out of this seemingly every day. Every time they saw one another, she tried to tell herself that she couldn't have anything with him. She tried to tell herself that none of it made sense and things she wanted for herself were things he would never want.

But sometimes, they laid in bed together and just slept. She would wear his tee-shirt, one of the Samcro ones from the club, and it was so large on her small frame, she practically drowned in it. But she never missed the way Happy's eyes darkened even more when he saw her wearing it.

Sometimes, they just hung out. Sitting on her couch, she studying and him watching television and sometimes, he would pick her up and take her for rides with no destination in mind and she had grown to love being on his bike, sitting behind him with her arms wrapped around his waist. Just the two of them.

After her parents hugged and kissed her one more time and wished her to have a good time celebrating that night – having no idea what their daughter would be up to – and her brother hugged her before he began the drive back to LA, she packed her bag and Kyle, got into her car and began driving to Charming.

When she pulled into the parking lot of both the garage and clubhouse, she saw there was another party going on that evening, the bikes lined up in a row and people crowded outside, music pounding from inside.

She shouldered her bag, and held Kyle in her arms, and she left her car, crossing the lot. There was a large crowd gathered around the boxing ring they had set up and they all cheered as the two men fought within the ropes. As she got closer, she could see that Happy was one of the men in the midst of a bare-knuckle fight, his shirt off and blood dripping down from his temple. She couldn't make out who the other man was but she caught a flash of black curly hair and she figured it was probably Tig.

"Hello, beautiful."

She smiled as she saw Chibs approaching her. "Hi," she said, still feeling herself always get so shy when another member addressed her no matter how many times she came here.

"I was talkin' to Kyle," the man winked at her and she laughed softly, passing the feline from her arms into his. "Happy said you're a nurse now. Congratulations."

"Thank you," she said and couldn't help but beam.

She was a nurse now, wasn't she? She loved the sound of that. And she felt a churning in her stomach that Happy had told the others about it. She looked towards the ring when there were more cheers rising. She couldn't really see what was happening but – no offense to Tig – she assumed Happy was winning. And after just a few more moments, Bobby stepped into the ring, declaring the fight over and Happy and Tig embraced one another, laughing. Bobby said something to Happy then and he turned his head, finding her immediately, seeing her standing there with Chibs. She gave him a small smile though she was standing in mostly darkness and she knew he wouldn't be able to see.

He climbed from the ring, grabbing his shirt from where he had dropped it, and he walked through the crowd towards him, men clapping him on the back and women throwing smiles his way. She tried not to stiffen at that, telling herself that Happy wasn't even looking at them. He strode right towards her, tugging his shirt back on.

"Hi," she smiled up at him.

Without a word – and without caring that Chibs was still standing there – Happy put a hand on the back of her head and pressed his lips to hers. She stood on her toes and her arms looped around his neck and she felt his arms circling her waist, pulling her up, her feet dangling above the ground.

He didn't say it – and would never admit to such a thing – but she knew what he was doing. She saw the dark looks he sometimes shot her and Chibs when they were talking with one another. The Scotsman always made her laugh and Happy seemed to notice that. She wondered if Happy could truly be jealous though – especially since there was absolutely nothing to be jealous of. She couldn't believe a man like Happy would ever feel such an emotion about anything. It just didn't seem to fit him.

"You're bleeding," she said to him softly once their lips had parted for air.

"Why do you think I'm sleeping with a nurse?" He asked.

And she wanted to roll her eyes at him but she found herself smiling instead. Just hearing him calling her a nurse, she felt that ridiculous bubble of happiness and she wondered how long it would be until she stopped reacting so overjoyed at her title.

Chibs promised her he would look after Kyle for her – and she told him to make sure Tig didn't give him a dish of beer like he had tried doing last time – and she followed Happy into the clubhouse and to his room. Whenever she was here, they usually always stayed in his room, him never seeming to like her walking around the clubhouse. He closed the door behind them and sat down on the bed as she went into the bathroom and came out again with a first-aid kit. She kneeled beside him on the bed and looked over his cut. Just a small one.

"How was the ceremony?" He asked as she began to clean it, not even flinching at the medicine that usually stung a normal person.

"Good. Long. And then my parents and brother took me out to my favorite Italian restaurant," she smiled. "Already thinking of where I should start applying. I've been thinking about St. Thomas," she said.

He frowned at that though. "Why?"

"It's the only hospital in this area," she said, blowing then on the cut to relieve some of the stinging though he still wasn't even reacting to it.

"I don't want you there," he said.

It was her turn to frown. "You don't want me there?" She echoed.

"That's right. It's a shitty hospital and I don't want you around here."

She looked at him, frowning, her brow furrowed with confusion. "I wouldn't be working at the hospital to be closer to you, Happy," she said though she knew that was exactly the reason. He didn't need to know that though.

He stood up suddenly and turned to stare down at her. "You're not going to work at St. Thomas," he said, his voice – like his eyes were now – hard.

She frowned. "Is that an order?"

"Yes," he said bluntly.

She stood up from the bed. "Who the hell are you to give me any kind of order?"

He stared down at her, his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw clenched, and she stared up at him, trying to look just as intimidating. It passed through her mind – briefly – that Happy could knock her out with one punch if he wanted to but she told herself that he would never hit her. No way. … would he?

She looked into his black eyes and suddenly felt as afraid of him as she had those times he would come into the diner – before she really knew him. But she supposed she still didn't know him.

"You don't have to worry about me being in the same town," She said, her arms crossed over her chest, practically hugging herself as if that would protect him. "I wouldn't be checking up on you or anything. You would still have your life and I would have mine. We wouldn't have to see one another at all. You could still screw the random women around here if that's what you want."

Somehow, his eyes darkened even more.

"I told you I'm not fucking anyone else," he was nearly growling.

"Then why else wouldn't you want me here?" She demanded. She couldn't figure out why he was acting like this.

"You really think you belong here?" He asked then, the question catching her off guard. "You think you move to Charming and hang around the club and me more and you think this is what you would want?"

"I think I want to build a life for myself – with or without you," she said.

She couldn't believe she had just said that. It was the closest they had ever come to talking about anything like that and Happy stood there, just staring at her, not saying anything.

And she realized he wasn't going to say anything either.

She turned away from him then. She had come there, so happy and excited to spend the night with him on what was – without question – one of the best days of her life, but now, she just felt something crushing her chest and tears burned in her eyes but she refused to cry. She was never going to cry in front of him.

She grabbed her bag from the floor and without looking at him or saying another word, she left the bedroom. She spotted Chibs and Jax standing near the pool table, Chibs still holding Kyle and Jax grinning about something, drinking a beer.

"Hey, Emily," Jax greeted when he saw her approaching.

She didn't say anything to either of them as she took Kyle back into her arms. She didn't look behind her to see if Happy was there. She told herself she didn't care if he had followed her out or not. She ignored the matching frowns Chibs and Jax wore directed towards her and she left the clubhouse, heading straight for her car.

There was no way she was ever going to come back here.

…

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**Thank you so much for reading and please review!**


	14. Chapter 14

**I have been waiting for a Tara appearance. And the next chapter will be from Happy's POV. Some of you understand what he's doing but he definitely needs to explain - or explain as much as Happy can. Thank you! ps - once again, I've played with the show's timeline a little. **

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…

**Chapter Fourteen. **

"Dr. Knowles?" She approached Tara as she stood at one of the nurse's station, writing something in a chart, a soft cast on her arm. Tara lifted her head and looked at her, smiling faintly when she saw her. She smiled in return. "I just need a doctor's signature and you were the first one I saw," she said, holding out the folder to her.

"You got it," Tara said, taking the folder and reading through the forms. "How do you like St. Thomas so far?" She asked, looking up to Emily.

Emily gave a slight nod and a small smile. "So far, so good," she said.

"It's a good hospital," Tara nodded. "Small but good."

Emily nodded again. "Thank you," she said when Tara handed her the folder back.

"Have you seen Happy lately?" Tara then asked before she could walk away.

She couldn't help but tense slightly at the question. She sometimes forgot that Dr. Knowles was deeply immersed in the club, Jax, of all people, being her boyfriend.

"Um, no. Not for a couple months now," she said.

Forty-two days to be exact – not that she was counting. She had gone longer than that sometimes in between seeing him. Forty two days was nothing when it came to Happy coming in and out of her life. But this time, he was out, never coming in again.

Tara was quiet for a moment, looking down at the pen she fiddled in her hands, and then looked at her. "I know it's none of my business but it's probably for the best. This kind of life and their kind of life, they never match. I had a chance to get away from it all – more than once actually – and I never took it. Too in love," she then said but she didn't say so with a smile or even a warmth in her eyes.

Emily nodded and didn't know what to say. She hadn't been in love with Happy. She had felt her feelings for him growing stronger but she had never fallen completely. She knew if it had continued, she would have – whether she wanted to or not – but she never knew his feelings for her and she doubted that he had ever had any.

"I want to get married someday," Emily heard herself say softly. "I want to get married and have babies and… and I don't think I ever could have that with Happy."

Tara looked at her for a moment, looking so sad all of a sudden, and she nodded. "You're lucky you realized that," she said.

They both heard a clicking of heels storming down the hallway, getting closer, and both turned to see Gemma barreling their way. Tara sighed heavily and closed the folder she was working in and Emily hugged her own, taking a step back. Gemma didn't even glance at her though. Her eyes were set on Tara and it was obvious she was going to start a fight. Tara seemed to be ready for it though, her shoulders tight and her eyes flashing dangerously.

"I'd get out of here if I were you, sweetheart," Gemma said to her, never taking her eyes off of Tara but addressing her.

Emily looked to Tara but she was embroiled in a staring contest with Gemma and neither woman acknowledged her again.

"Who the hell do you think you are, putting those kids in daycare?" Gemma could be heard demanding as Emily hurried down the hallway, away from them both, and returning to her other work.

…

* * *

Every time she heard a motorcycle, she found herself looking out the window even though she knew it wasn't him. She had moved to Charming two months ago and for being such a small town, they hadn't run into one another once. And she told herself that she didn't want to run into him.

She was renting an one-bedroom apartment on the second floor and her first weekend there, she and her parents had gone to IKEA to get her everything she would need to fill the space. She loved her apartment – especially after a long day. She kicked off her shoes the instant she was inside and went to the kitchen for a bottle of water. Kyle was on the counter, his tale swishing lazily back and forth, and Emily rubbed him beneath his chin like he loved, the cat purring with his approval.

She went into the bathroom and took a shower to wash the hospital smell and the labor of the day off of her and just as she was stepping out, there was a knock on her door. She wasn't sure why but she felt her heart beat a little bit faster though she told herself it wasn't him. Why would it be?

She wrapped the fluffy white towel around her body and went from the bathroom through the living room to the door. She stood on her toes and looked through the peephole, confused with her visitor but her hand immediately going to the lock.

"Hi, Emily," Tara greeted, baby Thomas in her arm and Abel at her side, his bookbag on his back and his hand in her free one.

"Hi!" She smiled though still confused. "Is everything alright?"

"I hate to do this to you but do you think you could watch the boys? Just for a couple of hours or so? I have to meet someone and I really had nowhere else to leave them," Tara explained, sounding a little breathless.

"Of course! Come in," she smiled, taking a step back and holding the door open. "Let me just go get dressed real quick. Make yourself at home."

With that, she hurried into the her bedroom. When she came out again in pajama shorts and sweatshirt, Abel was already sitting on the floor, pulling toys from his bookbag and Tara was sitting on the couch, Thomas in her lap. When she saw Emily, she stood up, smiling.

"Thank you so much for this, Emily," she said. "Jax and I are having a little problem with Gemma watching them at the moment and he's doing something for the club right now he can't watch them. He knows they're here though and he's going to come by and pick them up when he can."

"Oh, that's fine," Emily smiled as she reached out, pulling Thomas into her arms. "I was going to make some macaroni and cheese for dinner. Is it alright if Abel has that with me?"

Tara smiled. "He would love that. And I put a couple of bottles for Thomas in the diaper bag. Thank you so much again, Emily. You're really helping us out."

"Anytime," Emily smiled in reply. Once Tara kissed her sons goodbye and left, Emily closed and locked the door behind her and bounced Thomas in her arms before looking to Abel. "What's your favorite Disney movie, Abel? I have almost all of them."

…

* * *

A couple of hours later, there was another knock on the door and she stood up from playing race cars with Abel to see who it was. She made sure to check the peephole and she smiled, turning the lock and opening the door.

"Daddy!" Abel immediately exclaimed and came running.

"Hey, buddy," Jax grinned, swooping the boy up in his arms. "Thanks for this," he said, looking to Emily.

"Oh, it was no problem at all," she smiled. "Abel and I had macaroni and cheese and we watched _Dumbo_ and Thomas had his bottle and he is such a good baby."

Jax smiled when he heard that. He looked to Abel. "Ready to get home?"

"Yep," Abel smiled and bobbed his head.

For the first time, she heard a hum of an idle motorcycle engine and she looked past Jax to see the parking lot of her apartment complex below. She recognized the truck from the garage and next to it – she saw two motorcycles. Chibs was on one. And Happy sat on the other. She nearly choked on a gasp of air. She had had no idea he was there and she saw that he was staring right up at her. Or she assumed he was. He was wearing sunglasses so maybe he wasn't looking at her at all.

She quickly took a step back into the apartment, disappearing from his view. She turned and began busying herself with getting the boys and their things together.

"You mind helping me get them down to the truck?" Jax asked.

She wanted to say no. Forty two days and why the hell did she feel like someone punched her in the stomach? She wanted to be nowhere near him.

But she found herself tugging on her Converse sneakers and holding Thomas in her arms and the diaper bag on her shoulder, she followed Jax down the stairs to the ground floor and then to his waiting truck. She didn't look in Happy's direction once and she told herself that he wasn't looking at her and feeling his eyes on her was just her imagination.

She buckled Thomas into his seat and couldn't help but kiss him on the head, smiling when the baby smiled up at her. She then said goodbye to Abel and the boy waved at her happily before she stepped back, closing the door.

"Here," Jax began to hand her some money but she shook her head, taking a step back as if physically separating herself from it would matter.

"No, I don't need it. It was a favor to you and Tara and I liked doing it," she said.

"We really appreciate it," he said. "You should come by the clubhouse sometime. We've miss seeing you around there."

But before she could open her mouth to respond, Happy revved his bike powerfully and looked to Jax, who just stood there, grinning, definitely knowing something that Emily didn't.

"Thanks again, Emily," Jax said as he got into the truck and a moment later, drove from the apartment complex, Chibs roaring away after him.

But Happy remained and instead of riding off, he turned his bike off and stood up, taking off his helmet and then his sunglasses. She stared at him and didn't say a word. If he had something to say to her, he could say it. She just knew she wasn't going to make this easy for him.

…

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**Thank you so much for reading and please review!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you so, so much for all of the responses to the last chapter. Happy POV chapters are always shorter than the others because I haven't gotten a complete grasp on writing him yet. Hopefully, Emily's next chapter can explain a bit. I love this story but I think it will only have sixteen chapters. I've pretty much told the story I wanted to tell with this. **

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**Chapter Fifteen. **

He stood just inside of the apartment, looking around. It was small but clean and bright and it definitely looked like her place – warm colors and comfortable furniture and it smelled like her. He knew the smell well after a year of hooking up with her but also, his bed sheets still smelled like her. His one Samcro tee-shirt did, too. It had been over two months. He knew he should probably wash it but he always seemed to forget it when he went to Jax's house to use his washer and dryer.

She walked in behind him and closed the door before walking past him. She went into the kitchen to begin cleaning up from dinner with the boys and he looked back to her front door, frowning when he saw how flimsy the locks were. He'd have to get something strong installed for her whether she wanted it or not.

He looked back to her as she wiped down the counter. He wasn't going to say he missed her. He had just gotten used to her and the crow eaters hanging around the clubhouse just suddenly seemed all wrong to him. They were too loud and forward and annoying. He had gotten used to her softness and shyness and her dresses and Converse sneakers. He wasn't going to tell her any of that either.

"Went to mom's grave the other day. Someone had left flowers there. That you?" He asked, watching her every move, aware of the fact that she was seeming to do everything to not look at him.

She nodded without a word and turned to begin loading the dishwasher.

He saw Kyle creep across the floor towards him and he frowned as the cat began rubbing against his leg. He hated when he did that but he didn't shake the animal off. He didn't know why Chibs and Tig seemed so damn fond of this thing. Cats weren't pets. They were like he told her that one day. Cats were useless; no point to them. He wouldn't tell her that though. She loved the damn thing and she was already pissed enough at him. He found himself not wanting to add to it.

She finished cleaning up the kitchen and still without a word or even a look to him, she moved past him and went into the bedroom. He frowned, following after her.

"I'm not going to apologize," he told her, standing in the doorway.

"I wasn't expecting you to," she finally spoke from the bathroom, taking the towel she had hanging over the shower bar and folding it back over the towel rack.

"Then what the hell do you want?" His frown deepened.

She turned towards him. "Nothing. I don't expect or want anything. We were just having fun together, right?"

He didn't say anything. He just stared at her and she moved from the bathroom back into the bedroom. She went to her blinds, closing them as the sun was nearly set and she turned to her bed, pulling down the covers for the night. She turned on the lamp on the nightstand table and a soft glow began to fill the bedroom. He looked at the sheets and knew them well. White with tiny little red roses. He had fucked her on those sheets too many times to count.

"I talked with Tara," she then informed him. "She told me it was good I got away when I did." She stood on one side of the bed and he stood on the other, both staring.

He nodded his head once. "Good. You should listen to her. Everything the doc's done, you should do the exact opposite. Ruining her life for Jax and for what?"

"She loves him," she said.

He just stared at her. She didn't get it. She was a smart girl so how was she so damn dumb about this? He didn't get why she couldn't seem to grasp it. She could have a good life and the club – and him – would just ruin that for her. Why the hell couldn't she understand that? He was doing her a favor, staying away from her.

So why was he here?

He knew why. She wasn't interested in becoming his old lady. She wasn't interested in any of that. She didn't know what his happy face tattoos meant or exactly what he did for the club, when Jax called him and told him they had another problem.

She was the girl who went to nursing school and had a cat; who visited his mom in the home and then in the cemetery even though she had absolutely no obligation to. She was the girl who patched him up without asking questions and wore his tee-shirt to sleep in and floated her fingers across his skin before digging her nails in. She was the girl who wrote him sixty letters when he was in prison.

He was fucked around her.

"Why don't you want me at St. Thomas?" She asked him.

He just stared at her. "Haven't figured that out yet?"

"I think I have," she nodded and then shrugged slightly. "I guess I'm just wanting to hear you say it. Is it why when I'm in the clubhouse with you, you never want me to leave your room?"

He nodded.

"And is it why you would get so angry when I used to just show up?"

Again, he nodded.

"I don't want to have anything to do with the club, Happy," she told him in a soft voice. "That's not me and it never will be. I just… I just wanted to be with you."

"Me and the club are in the same package," he told her what she also already knew.

She nodded. She stared at him for a moment, as if studying him and trying to figure something out. "Guess that's that then."

"Yeah."

He turned to leave but before he could even take a step, she was there, her hand on his arm. He looked down at her and she was looking up at him with brown eyes that were still soft and innocent and she whispered his name like some damn prayer.

He kissed her and it was hard and hungry and she moaned softly against his mouth. Her arms slipped around his neck and he turned her towards the bed, pushing her down, his body right there on top of hers. She pushed the leather cut from his shoulders and he tossed it aside before tugging his tee-shirt off. She sat up enough for him to rip her sweatshirt off and seeing she wasn't wearing a bra, his mouth instantly dropped down to her bare breasts. She definitely wasn't a crow eater. Her breasts were small and all real. He had gotten so damn used to these breasts, too.

She cried out and moaned his name and when her thighs were apart and he was thrusting hard between them, her cries grew only louder and her neighbors were introduced to him through the walls.

Afterwards, he got up and went into the bathroom to flush away the condom and when he came back, she was curled beneath the sheet, looking up at him. She didn't smile but she wasn't frowning either. He got back into the bed and stretched out on his back. She laid there for a moment and then rolled over onto her other side, facing him. Neither said anything and slowly, he saw her move closer to him. She then did something she rarely did and something he was never too sure if he actually liked.

She rested her head on his shoulder and her hand came to a hesitant rest on his abs.

They laid there and didn't say anything. He waited to feel guilty. He didn't feel guilty about too many things in life – hardly anything – but doing this with her, it definitely wasn't the right thing.

"You would always scare the hell out of me when you came into the diner," she then said softly and he couldn't help but smirk a little.

"I know. Used to get a kick out of it," he said, eyes focused on the ceiling, his brain not trying to focus on her soft hair against his chest or the softness of her skin. Everything about her was just so damn soft.

"I'm still scared," she whispered.

He didn't know what to say to that even though he knew exactly what she was meaning to say without actually saying it.

Scared of him and everything that had to do with him.

He couldn't change any of it though – didn't want to change it – but it seemed like he couldn't stay away from her. He wondered why the hell a smart girl like her was lying in her bed with him and why she couldn't seem to be able to stay away from him either.

"Am I your old lady?" She then asked in her still whispering voice.

And really, there was only one answer he could give to her. Maybe, there had only ever been that one answer.

He slipped his arm around her lower back. He didn't mind that much having her head on his shoulder, he realized.

"Yeah," he said.

…

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**Thank you very much for reading and please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**I cannot thank you all enough for the support you gave this story. I really fell in love with Happy and Emily and I loved writing this for them. **

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**Chapter Sixteen.**

"I don't like this at all, Emily," her dad said just as she knew he would.

She nodded. "I know."

"We are not going to approve of it," her mother added.

Again, she nodded. "I know. And I can't say what's going to happen between me and him. I just want to let you know that this is what is going on right now and I'm… he makes me happy," she tried to explain.

"He's in a gang!" Her mother practically yelled.

She didn't deny it because no matter how many times Happy said it was a club, she knew better. All she could do was nod in agreement with everything her parents were saying. She couldn't exactly argue with them. Yes, she was involved in a relationship with an older biker and even saying it to herself, she knew it made no sense and probably wasn't the best decision she had ever made and yet, what she had told her parents, it was the truth. Right now, in this moment, she was happy.

She really had no idea where it was going to go. As she told Tara, she couldn't see Happy getting married or being a father but for the time being, she wasn't thinking about that. She was only thinking about how she was still in her early twenties and she wasn't on some sort of clock or schedule. She had time for everything she wanted in life. And right now, she found herself wanting Happy.

She knew it didn't really make sense and she probably wasn't thinking clear but she just couldn't seem to give him up. She knew it was crazy and she knew this wasn't like her at all but with him, she couldn't seem to help herself.

"He's good to me," she said quietly. "He really is."

Her parents were silent, fuming, reading to yell some more but before they could, she stood up and slipped her messenger bag on over her head. She kissed her dad and then her mom on the cheek. She hadn't come over there, expecting them to accept the news when their daughter told them she had a new man in her life. She just came over to tell them because they were her parents and she loved them and they deserved to know what was going on in her life.

She left with a heavy feeling, suspecting that they wouldn't be talking to her for a while, and she got into her car parked in the driveway. She didn't expect Happy to meet them. Somehow, seeing him with his bald head and tattoos and scowl would probably just make things worse.

She had worked a shift overnight at the hospital and had gone to see her parents first thing in the morning. Now that that was done, she realized how exhausted she was. She wanted to just sleep for a few hours until she had to report for another shift at nine o'clock that night. She was working nights for the next six nights before she got a four-day weekend at the end of it.

Instead of going to her apartment, she drove to the clubhouse where if she timed this right, Happy was still probably asleep. The garage was open and had a few customers and she saw Gemma through the open door of the office. She waved to her and the older woman smiled, giving her a slight wave in return. The woman still scared the hell out of her but she had always been kind to her. Whatever was going on between her, Tara and Jax right now definitely wasn't any of her business.

The clubhouse was practically deserted. It usually was in the mornings like this. There was only Tig, passed out on the pool table. When Happy had told the other guys that she was his old lady and Jax – as president – had nodded with approval, it had been Tig who had exclaimed "About time!" but Happy had just looked at him and hadn't said anything else. He told her that Tig was in love with her and how he had read him her letters while they were both locked up, sharing a cell together. If he hadn't made her his, Tig would have gladly done so.

She quietly opened the door to Happy's room and sure enough, he was still sleeping in bed, flopped on his stomach, hugging the pillow to his face. She closed and locked the door behind her and then toed out of her shoes and pulled her light blue scrubs off. The shirt she usually slept in was kept in the top drawer of his dresser and she pulled it on, slipping the soft cotton over her head.

She crawled onto the bed beside him and as soon as she was lying down, his arm had shot out and flung over her stomach. She turned her head towards him but his eyes were still closed. She moved closer to him and closed her eyes, sighing tiredly.

"You gonna sleep here today?" He asked roughly.

"Is that alright?" She asked.

"You know I don't care," he said. "Like my things smelling like you."

And she smiled, knowing that things like that were considered big compliments from Happy. She didn't ask what he was doing that day. He would just say he had to handle some club business for Jax and never say anything more and she was getting used to never having her question answered. A part of her still didn't want to know. A part of her knew that the man beside her was not a good man and did things she would never want to know about but as she told her parents, he was good to her and loyal to her and for now, that was enough.

She couldn't help it and she leaned her head in, pressing her lips to his softly. His lips were instantly pressing back and sometimes, he kissed her gently and slowly, lazy almost, and she sank into it, losing herself and turning herself over completely.

She slipped her arms around him his neck and slowly, they rolled so he was on his back and she was lying on top of him. She loved when he was hard and demanding but she loved this, too. She loved when they kissed as if they had all of the time in the world to do nothing else.

But just as his hands were slipping beneath the tee-shirt and touching her bare back, there was a knock on the door.

"Hap!" It was Bobby. "Chapel in five minutes!"

They both seemed to simultaneously sigh with disappointment and with one more kiss to his lips, she slid from him so he could get up from the bed. She laid there and watched as he got dressed, pulling on his jeans and going to the dresser for a white tee-shirt. He seemed to have an endless supply of those.

"I told my parents about us," she said.

"How'd that go?" He asked, sitting down on the end of the bed to tug on his shoes.

"I won't be taking you to Sunday dinner at their house anytime soon," she said and he smirked, turning to look at her from over his shoulder. She got up on her knees and crawled to him, kneeling behind him, her arms slipping around his shoulders.

"You alright with that?" He then asked, looking at her closely.

"For the time being," she nodded. "I was expecting it but I'm an adult. I can do whatever I want. Being with you doesn't mean I don't love them anymore," she said.

He didn't say anything to that. Just looked at her for a moment, his black eyes penetrating her brown ones, and she still had no idea how to read him. She wondered if she would ever be able to.

She leaned into him and pressed her lips gently to his. She felt his hand slip to the back of her head and he pushed his lips back against hers. She remembered the first time he kissed her after driving her home from the diner and telling her he would be going away for a while. She hadn't even told her parents that he had been in prison – and more than once. That was a heart attack she didn't want to be responsible for. She would leave that to her brother and the woman he was currently dating with four children and who was technically still married. With that first kiss, he had put his hand on the back of her head, too.

Happy broke away and looked at her again for another minute before he stood up. He grabbed his leather cut, turning and looking at her as he pulled it on. He had gotten a new patch a few days ago – Sgt. At Arms – and she didn't know what that meant but she knew whatever it was, he was Jax's left hand man, right beneath Chibs in the order of things in their "club".

"You'll be alright?" He asked.

She nodded and smiled at him. "I'm just going to sleep."

He nodded and surprised her when he closed the space between them and kissed her on the head before turning and leaving the room. She sat there for a moment and smiled faintly to herself at the rare act of affection. She laid down again, resting her head on his pillow this time, still smiling.

…

* * *

The hospital had other ideas though and called her in after just five hours of sleep. She got dressed in her scrubs again, made the bed and folded the tee-shirt, returning it to the dresser drawer. Taking her bag, she left his room, closing the door behind her and saw no one else in the clubhouse. Outside, she saw most of their bikes gone.

She walked to her car and looked around for a moment as if expecting him to come roaring up in that moment but the air was quiet around them except for the work of the mechanics in the garage.

"They had to run an errand," Gemma said, reading her mind, approaching. "Not sure when they'll be back."

She gave a small smile. "I have to get back to the hospital. I guess I'll just see him when I see him." She opened her car door.

Gemma looked at her for a moment. "It's not an easy life, baby."

She nodded and swallowed as if her throat was dry. "I know. And I know I'll never be made for it. But right now, maybe, I'm made for him."

Gemma looked at her for a moment and then gave a faint smile. She reached out and rubbed her arm. "You're a good girl. And you're good for him. He was terrible when you weren't around."

"You could tell the difference?" She smiled and Gemma laughed a little.

"More terrible," she corrected and Emily laughed now. "Do you plan on sticking around with him for a while?"

She shrugged. "Happy and I haven't really talked about it but I hope so. He's keeping me as far away from all of this as he can."

Gemma nodded. "Doesn't always work out that way."

"We're going to keep trying to do that for as long as we can," Emily said.

"Being one of these guy's old lady isn't like having a boyfriend in high school," Gemma told her. "It's serious."

"I know," Emily nodded. Without anything else, she got into her car and rolled down her window after starting the ignition. "Guess it's a good thing I'm serious about him," she said to her and Gemma looked at her, taking a step away from the car so she could back out of the space and drive from the lot.

She knew she would never be like Gemma. That woman lived for the club. Breathed it, thought of nothing else. This was her life and this was all she had. She would never be like that and she got the feeling that Happy didn't want her to be.

…

* * *

Another six hours and she was finally home – this time in her apartment and completely exhausted. She barely was able to kick off her shoes and pull of her scrubs before she collapsed onto the bed in just her bra and underwear. The instant her head touched the pillow and her eyes were closed, she was asleep.

She woke up to a dark bedroom and a heavy weight behind her, an arm tossed of her hip. She blinked a few times, trying to wake her brain up, and she looked to the clock on her nightstand. Just a little after eleven. She wondered when he had come in. She hadn't even heard him.

She shifted and slipped from the bed, going to the bathroom. When she came out again, she saw that he had folded her scrubs, placing them on top of her dresser, and her shoes were side by side on the floor beside the bed. She smiled. He was such a neat freak. His own shoes, cut and sweatshirt were folded and on the floor beside his side of the bed. He still wore his jeans and tee-shirt.

She sighed with quiet relief as she took off her bra – she hated sleeping with one on – and she turned, tossing it into the hamper. In just her underwear, she crawled back onto the bed and this time, her slight movements woke him. He grunted something and rolled onto his back, blinking up at her. She smiled softly and without a word, she began unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans.

He didn't say anything. He simply laid there and watched her. He only lifted his hips when she tugged the jeans and boxers down his legs, tossing them off, pulling off his socks, too. He remained on his back, sitting up just enough to tug his tee-shirt off. She shifted herself, pulling her underwear off, and then she straddled him. His hands were instantly on her hips and she reached between her thighs, finding him and guiding him to her opening and they both sighed as she sank down onto him.

It wasn't always like this but sometimes, it was slow and gentle – usually when she was on top and he let her have the control. She rocked against him, her hands pressing down on his chest as she lifted herself up and down, never letting him leave her completely, and she sighed and moaned his name. She had gotten used to his size and it didn't sting anymore. Now, it just gave her nothing but pleasure. Amazing, delirious pleasure.

And after she came with a cry and nails in his skin, he grasped her hips and began thrusting into her from beneath, looking for his own finish.

She laid on top of him, both of them out of breath and their skin sticky with sweat, and she closed her eyes, feeling so content in that moment with his hard body beneath her and his fingers drawing light, random patterns on her back.

"You hungry?" She asked him softly.

"Yeah."

"Me, too. What do you have a taste for?" She lifted her head and looked at him.

His fingers were still on her back and his eyes stared into hers. He smiled a little. "Cheesecake," he answered.

She smiled, too.

…

* * *

**The End. **

**Thank you so much for reading and please review one more time!**


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